Inside the Minds: Jeremy Sayer
by SpeedofInfinity
Summary: More accurate than any profile is a peek inside a criminal's head and what they're thinking. So, let's delve inside their minds even if it's scientifically not possible. Here's Jeremy Sayer's story, from birth to incarceration. Based on 6x05- Safe Haven
1. Chapter 1: Loss and Birth

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 1: Loss and Birth

Kendra Sayer, now around twenty weeks pregnant with twin boys, waited nervously for Dr. Hall to come and start her ultrasound. The nurse had already prepared her for it, and she was now wearing a dull, blue hospital gown.

_Pregnant._ She was pregnant. But, she wasn't ready! She was only twenty-three and only married for barely a year. She was not ready for this. Kendra Sayer wanted to have a career, not stay home and take care of her…children. A sitter would be too costly, and her own mother lived much too far away…

A sharp knock at the door quickly cleared her mind.

"Come in," she hesitantly said, pushing her long, auburn hair from her face.

Dr. Hall strode in and turned on the ultrasound machine. "Hello, Mrs. Sayer. Are you feeling well today?"

Kendra snorted. "If you consider morning sickness and swelling ankles a good feeling, then I'm feeling absolutely great."

Dr. Hall laughed good-naturedly. "It's all part of the pregnancy, I'm afraid. Now, if I remember correctly, three weeks ago, we had an ultrasound, and you learned the genders of your twins, correct?"

"Yes. Both male." Kendra said. _But a daughter would have been better…_

"So, this is just an ultrasound to check if the fetuses are healthy." Dr. Hall said, squeezing some clear gel onto her abdomen.

Getting his little device, he probed her abdomen and peered at the screen.

He frowned, and called out, "Tracy get in here, and hold this please!"

Tracy the nurse rushed in and grabbed the device from Dr. Hall. Dr. Hall stood and examined the screen closer for a few more moments.

Saddened, he finally told Kendra the news. "Ms. Sayer, I believe that you're now expecting only one son."

Kendra let the news sink in. "What do you mean?" she said, feeling strangely devastated.

"This is a case of VTS, or Vanishing Twin Syndrome. One fetus will die and will get consumed by either the other fetus or the m—" he was cut off by Kendra, quickly growing hysterically disgusted.

"What do you mean, _CONSUMED!"_ she shouted, "Did he EAT his own brother?"

"Mrs. Sayer, please let me explain." Dr. Hall said, rubbing his forehead. "This is more common than you realize, as it often goes unnoticed because of its occurrence in the early stages of pregnancy. But, because this happened in the later stages of your pregnancy, some complications may have arisen. Though, since the dead fetus seems to be completely absorbed, you should be okay. Although quite tragic, it's completely natural. It's not your fault or your other son's fault."

Too bad Kendra Sayer heard none of that. She was too busy mulling over the fact that she was holding a cannibal in her own womb. A dirty, rotten one at that.

Previously hesitant love she started to feel for her babies were gone, replaced by a growing feeling of repulsion and hatred. She was carrying a monster inside of her. Who knows? Maybe even one day, he'll grow up and be a diseased, introverted dropout, or even worse, a _serial killer._

She knew what she needed, and later that day, she discussed what she wanted with her husband during dinner.

"I want an abortion." She said fiercely, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.

Carter stopped eating and dropped his fork. "What? Why?"

She explained everything to him.

Carter scooted his chair over to her after a moment of silent contemplation and pecked her forehead. "Come on, honey. Our son didn't even know what he was doing. It wasn't his fault. He's not even born yet! Give him a chance. Please? For me?"

Kendra paused.

"Because if you don't want him, then give him to me." Carter seriously said now, determination glistening in his eyes. "I'll love him no matter what."

Kendra sighed. "Fine. Besides, my mother would probably kill me for even thinking of abortion. She's too excited about this."

Carter grinned excitedly and hugged her carefully.

And so, in the next months, Kendra went about her daily life thinking about her son. She hoped he wouldn't grow up to be rotten. She certainly wished so.

Even though she knew mothers were supposed to naturally love their children unconditionally, she still had this nagging feeling of abhorrence towards her son. She…_despised_ him.

She was ashamed to admit it, but it was true.

And finally, on February 6, 1997, she was rushed to the Saint Jude Hospital. It took a bit of time to get there, as the city of Newton was having another case of terrible weather. Only, this time, it was hailing.

A few hours later, Kendra went into labor. Her mother had made her refuse the epidural, as she believed in natural births.

And so the labor had been excruciatingly painful. All Kendra could feel was pain, pain, and more pain. It wasn't mild pain. It was _real_ pain. _One could never, ever know true pain until they deliver a child, _she thought.

This was her first time delivering a child into a world, and she was in pain, scared, and really, really, really in pain. So, naturally, she would take extra long to deliver.

Nearly fifteen agonizing hours later, Jeremy Matthew Sayer was born. He was so noisy at first, wailing at the top of his miniscule lungs. But Kendra didn't even notice. She didn't even want to hold him after she finally pushed that little monster out of her, as she lay on her hospital bed, closing her eyes exhaustedly.

Carter held his bloody body first. Not her.

So, in the next moments, her… son was taken from her, cleaned, and given back to her, tightly swaddled in a blue blanket.

Staring at little Jeremy Sayer snoozing in her arms, Kendra couldn't help but notice how cute he was. Almost…_lovable._

No. She would never love him. He _consumed_ her other son. Besides. It would hurt less when she would find out what type of a person he would become when he was older, and what people he'd hurt.

And so, on February 6, 1997 on the snowiest day of the month, Jeremy Sayer was born to a mother who hated him even before he was born. What could go wrong? Right?


	2. Chapter 2: Smiles

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 2: Smiles

When Jeremy Sayer was three years old, he couldn't quite understand why his mommy was so distant and cold.

Of course, she did hug him and comfort him when he was sad, but whenever he smiled at her, he thought something was wrong with her smile.

It happened again. He just finished coloring a picture with his crayons and showed it to her as she sat on the couch.

"Is for you, mommy!" he grinned.

She took one look at it and furrowed her eyebrows. His grin faltered.

"Jeremy, what exactly did you draw?"

"I dwew you!"

She smiled, and Jeremy grimaced internally.

That smile…something was quite off, and even three-year-old Jeremy could feel it.

His mommy was a nice person, and she smiled properly at everyone else. Why wouldn't she give him a nice smile?

_It was as if her mouth curled up, but her eyes remained distant and frosty._

"Thank you, Jeremy." She finally said, giving him a hug. Jeremy threw his arms around her and curled up next to her. She was warm, and he could faintly hear a thumping noise coming from her chest.

He reached out and twirled her long hair until she laughed and got up, gently pushing him off of her.

"I'm making dinner. Okay? Go find daddy." She said, walking away.

_My mommy._

And so he found daddy working in his office, looking bored as he read over mountains of paper.

"Daddy." Jeremy said, walking to him.

Mr. Sayer looked up and smiled a real smile. His eyes crinkled and he reached to pick him up.

"Hi, Jer Bear. Mommy's making dinner?"

He nodded. "Mommy twold me to find you."

"You're such a big boy now!" Mr. Sayer hugged him tightly.

Daddy was warm, too. So, Jeremy crawled onto his lap and sat there as his daddy continued to read over his papers for work. They sat there for a very long time. Father and son.

"Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy's smile?" Jeremy finally asked.

Mr. Sayer stopped perusing his files, put them down, and faced him.

"…What do you mean?" he said after a moment.

"Mommy dwoesn't smile in her eyes."

Mr. Sayer was thoughtful. _I need to speak to Kendra later. If her little son at this age can sense her discomfort around him, then something's not right. _

"Well, maybe Mommy smiles in different ways, Jeremy. Maybe she smiles through reading you stories, coloring with you, or playing with you. A smile doesn't have to be shown on her face, you know."

Jeremy was confused, but he accepted it anyways. "Okay, daddy."

Mr. Sayer debated telling Jeremy the next part. _Ah, well, he's only three. It's not like he's going to remember anyways._

"You know, Jeremy." He told him carefully. "When mommy had you in her stomach, she wasn't ready to have a son yet. It was a surprise for her."

Jeremy scrunched up his face into a thoughtful look. "I thought swurprises were gwood. She didn't want… _me_?"

"No, no, no!" Mr. Sayer sadly reassured Jeremy even though he guessed the truth.

"Mommy loves you very much. She was just very…scared at the time. Okay? She loves you so much now, though. Okay?"

Jeremy nodded, his three-year-old self believing this. But, it sounded more as if Daddy had been trying to convince himself of this.

"Besides." He said, standing up and swinging Jeremy around in the air. "Do you know what I said to Mommy when she was scared?"

"What?" Jeremy giggled as he flew through the air.

Mr. Sayer stopped twirling him around and looked into his eyes. "I said I promise if she wasn't ready for you, then I promised I would take care of you forever and _love you forever._"

Jeremy smiled and buried his head into his father's shoulder, walking downstairs to eat dinner.

_But, I thought you said mommy loves me now? Why was she not ready for me?_

Thoughts swirled through little Jeremy's head. Doubt. Disbelief. Confusion. It was all a bit too much for a three-year-old to take.

But it was okay. Daddy promised he would love him always and take care of him always.

_Too bad he would break that promise nearly seven years later. _


	3. Chapter 3: Expectations and Worms

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 3: Expectations and Worms

When Jeremy Sayer was four, his mommy became pregnant with another child, and she changed a bit.

"Jer Bear," his daddy said, "Your mother and I have something very important to tell you."

"What?" Jeremy put down the toys he had been playing with and looked up at them. His mommy placed a hand on her abdomen, and his daddy placed his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm pregnant, Jeremy," his mommy said, smiling a _real_ smile. "You're going to have a sister."

A…_sister?_ Wait…what? Oh, no.

"But, why are you smiling, Mommy?" Jeremy asked, confusedly. He couldn't remember the last time she smiled a real smile at him. "I thought that when you have surprise babies in your stomach, you're scared even though surprises are good!"

Mrs. Sayer narrowed her eyes. "Where did you hear that?"

"Daddy told me." Jeremy eagerly said.

Mrs. Sayer shot her husband a very, very, very dirty look.

Then, she turned to Jeremy and smiled a _fake_ smile again. "But, your sister was _planned_, Jeremy. I was expecting her. I'm not scared."

"Oh." Jeremy quietly said, looking at the floor now. "Why wasn't I…expected?"

His parents looked at each other intently.

"Listen, Jer," his father said, "Mommy and I are going to have a talk. Why don't you run outside and play a bit in the back yard?"

He nodded, and ran outside.

Mr. Sayer led his wife to the couch. Both of them said nothing as they sat, watching little Jeremy…dig in the soil?

"What's he doing?" Mrs. Sayer asked her husband after Jeremy pulled some string-like objects from the dirt.

"It…looks like he found worms to play with?" Mr. Sayer said.

Mrs. Sayer looked at him for a few more moments, frowning. "Why did you tell Jeremy the truth? You don't tell a _three-year-old_ that he wasn't wanted before he was born."

Mr. Sayer grimaced. "Come on, Kendra! It's the truth! And besides, he's only three! He's not going to remember any of this when he's older."

Mrs. Sayer was silent. She kept watching Jeremy outside, but her countenance grew from troubled to outright distraught.

"Oh. My. Goodness. Carter, if you said those were worms, do you see what I see?" Mrs. Sayer said, growing alarmed.

"What?" Mr. Sayer asked as he peered through the window.

He watched as Jeremy peered at one of the worms for a few moments. Then, he easily ripped it apart and gazed at it.

"Um…" Mr. Sayer managed to say.

"I knew it. I _knew _it… Our son is a _monster_… From eating his twin to now _murdering _innocent worms… Oh God…" Mrs. Sayer hysterically said.

"Oh, come on, honey!" Mr. Sayer exasperatedly said. "We went over this! It _wasn't_ his fault! You can't hate your _own son_ for something he can't even consciously remember doing!"

"Anyways," he chuckled, "since when did you like those innocent worms? Boys will be boys, eh? I remember digging through my own garden looking for anything that crawled and wiggled."

"But did you_ rip_ them apart after and stare at what was inside of them?" Mrs. Sayer asked.

"…No…" Mr. Sayer finally said.

"I knew it…We're raising a monster." Mrs. Sayer sighed.

"You know what?" Mr. Sayer asked. "Let's just ask him what he was doing. Then you'll see."

And so, they called their own son in.

"I'm going to wash my hands, okay?" Jeremy said.

"Yes, but…what were you doing outside, Jeremy?" his daddy asked him, confident it would be all right.

Jeremy turned and grinned innocently.

"I was digging around in the soil! After, I found three worms, and I ripped them apart to see what they looked like inside!"

Mrs. Sayer swallowed. "I _told_ you, Carter…"

And from that moment on, Jeremy noticed that his own mommy treated him differently now. She was more distant than normal, and she rarely wanted to stay in a room alone with him any more. It was almost as if she was…_scared_ of him.

Confused, Jeremy asked his daddy why this was.

"It's just the pregnancy, son…Pregnant women act differently." He tried to reassure his son.

Jeremy was still confused, but he accepted the answer nonetheless.

Mr. Sayer rubbed his face over. He had witnessed his son tear up _live_ worms and then…_look_ inside of them…Now, after all these years, he began to doubt himself and his judgment. Was Kendra really right?

_It has been said that animal abuse and mistreatment are just some early signs of a young, budding psychopath or a serial killer…_


	4. Chapter 4: Carrie

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 4: Carrie

When Jeremy Sayer was just five years old, his sister Carrie was born, and he began to question how much his mommy really loved him.

"Come along now, Jeremy," his grandmother said, tugging his hand as they walked along the hallways in the Saint Jude Hospital.

They were going to go visit his parents and his new sister, Carrie, in the hospital, and he couldn't wait.

Jeremy was so excited to see his parents and Carrie. He raced ahead of his grandmother just a tad and before walking into the room, he heard something that bewildered him a bit…

"A _daughter_, Carter…" Mrs. Sayer tenderly said holding Carrie Rachel Sayer.

"I've always wanted a daughter…Girls are just so much more sweet and delicate aren't they?"

Mr. Sayer cocked an eyebrow. "I'm going to get some coffee. It's been a long day…night…whatever. I'll bring you something."

Jeremy trotted in the room, unsure of what he just heard. "Where's Carrie? I want to see her!"

He plastered a _fake_ smile to his face to hide his discomfort. Yeah. Two can play at that game, mommy.

"Jeremy! Come here and meet Carrie, your sister! Isn't she just so…precious?" his mommy cooed.

Strange. Jeremy had never really seen his mommy in such a great mood. And she was smiling for real, too. Rushing over, he took a look at Carrie. She was…small…and wrinkly. Carrie didn't really look precious to him right now. She looked a bit weird, honestly. Did he look like that when he was just born like her?

"May I hold her?" Jeremy asked.

Mrs. Sayer paused and looked at Carrie. "Be very careful, Jeremy. She is _very, very_ delicate. Try not and drop her…"

She placed Carrie into his arms. Jeremy sucked in his breath, as this small bundle, his _sister_, was actually _breathing _in his arms. Life can be very miraculous.

He held her for a long moment, his eyes traveling up and down her tiny body.

Then, his grandmother finally came into the hospital room and smiled wonderfully as she looked at Carrie.

"Oh, look at them, Kendra! Brother and sister….So sweet… May I hold her now, Jeremy?"

He nodded and felt a tiny bit of weight taken from his arms.

"She's such a sweetie isn't she, mother? My pride and joy as of now."

Jeremy froze. Wait. What about him? Wasn't he good enough to be called "pride" and "joy" by his mommy?

Besides. He came first. But, why? Why, why, why? He could not understand.

His grandmother and his mommy chatted about…_Carrie_ for what seemed the longest hour _ever_. But, he filtered it out their conversation as his mommy's words played over and over and over in his mind…

_My pride and joy…My pride and joy…pride and joy…pride…joy…_

It hurt him deeply. Why wasn't he her "pride and joy?" Maybe if he drew her more pictures, she would call him that too? His rambling thoughts were interrupted by a quick dismissal from his mommy.

"Go home now with your grandmother, Jeremy. I'm tired," his mommy didn't even look at him as she said this, as she was much too occupied with _Carrie_ in her arms.

She closed her eyes with a real smile upon her face and made a shooing motion with her free arm. So, Jeremy went home with his grandmother and waited and waited for his parents and _Carrie_ to come home.

Currently, his grandmother had told him to sit with her as she watched one of her soap operas. He couldn't really understand why she liked them so much even though she thought it was very…suggestive.

"…Oh my goodness…Jeremy, dear, promise me you will never, ever do things like that in your life. People like that have absolutely no respect for themselves…absolutely no respec—Wow, Gretchen! You can do _so _much better than _him_, young lady…"

Yawning, Jeremy leaned over the couch, propped his head onto his arms, and stared into nowhere.

He had a …sister now? What does it mean to be a brother?

Why does she get to be "expected?" Why did _he_ have to be a "surprise?"

What Jeremy wanted was to have his mommy smile a real smile at him and let him curl up next to her again. Just like before. Now, he could not possibly understand why she acted so different. What did he do? What _exactly_ did he do to scare her away?

Standing up, he stretched and got out his crayons and paper. His grandmother didn't even notice, as she was too busy yelling at the TV.

Oooh! He could draw his family. He took out green and started to move his crayon up and down the page. Slowly, a grassy field began to form.

Then, he started drawing himself, his parents, his grandparents, and…Carrie…

_Brown for our hair, blue for our eyes…_he thought as he colored and drew.

Soon, a beautiful picture (as beautiful as a five-year-old can possibly draw) began to take place, and Jeremy was proud of what he drew.

His family stood together in a grassy field under the blue, blue sky holding hands. He made Carrie small because...she…was really, really small… She reminded him of an ant, though. Okay. Maybe it was a bit too small.

A day later, his parents came home with Carrie. His daddy immediately collapsed on their couch and snoozed away. But, his mommy held _Carrie_ tight to her chest and sat down next to daddy.

He was excited as he presented is drawing. "I drew this for you, mommy!"

She frowned and looked at it. "Why is Carrie so small, Jeremy?"

Jeremy shrugged. She is tiny, mommy. "Do you like it?"

After a pause, she smiled plastically. "…Of course…"

"Am I your pride and joy now, mommy?"

Mrs. Sayer chuckled awkwardly and told him to play outside. And he did, because at five years old, you don't question your elders. And you're naïve at five, willing to believe everything. And you're so young and innocent…

* * *

><p>Gosh, all his mother did now was take care of Carrie. He understood she was just a baby, and babies apparently need lots of attention, but now he had nobody to talk to or show his crayon drawings to.<p>

So, he found other ways to entertain himself. Sometimes, he would find trails and trails of ants crawling all over the trees or the cement. Then, he would get water and pour it all over them. He learned quickly that hoses, although quite effective, were less entertaining because it quickly got rid of all the ants, and after just a burst of water, nearly all the ants he sprayed at were all gone.

No, he learned that sprinkling a handful of water or two on the ants would ensure that they would not escape that quickly. Now, he could watch them squirm around in the water, trying to somehow crawl out before drowning.

Some ants, strong ants, managed to crawl out of the puddle he created. Some ants didn't. And most of the time, the ants lay there in the water, twitching, squirming, until at last, they stopped moving.

He recently learned that when the ants stopped moving forever, that they were…dead. Jeremy didn't really understand what death was just yet, but his daddy briefly explained that it was like sleeping, except forever. And, people come to bury your body and cry over you.

He thought it was really weird. Weren't humans supposed to be one of the most dominantly magnificent beings on earth? Why did they have to one-day stop moving and twitching like the ants? Why did they have to…_die?_

Sighing, Jeremy stopped messing with the ants and gazed inside the window. He pressed his face and the palms of his hand to the window. There, he saw his mommy gently rocking _Carrie_ as she drowsily drooped her tiny eyelids.

And sure enough, his mommy was wearing a _real_ smile. _He_ wanted to be rocked like that…even if he was such a big boy now at five years old. _He _wanted to be held in his mommy's arms. _He_ wanted his mommy to love him just like he loved _her. _

But, it seemed, for now, the person that his mommy gave the most attention and _love _to, was _Carrie._ Not him.


	5. Chapter 5: Why?

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 5: Why?

When Jeremy Sayer was just six years old, it seemed to him as if his mommy would not answer _any_ of his questions, and he really, really wanted some real answers.

Mommy was playing with Carrie currently, and her sweet cooing echoed through his ears and reverberated in his mind.

Sure, being six meant that you really didn't remember anything much, or at all about your earlier years. But, Jeremy could not, ever remember his mommy tenderly fussing over him. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good time with his mommy. And, he certainly couldn't remember the last time she said she loved him.

He could not remember.

She was just so distant now. Sure, she would speak to him sometimes, but even then, her mind was on Carrie, her eyes watched Carrie, and her heart loved only _Carrie._

Reaching this epiphany at six hurts. It hurts terribly.

Just watching the fun his mommy had with Carrie cut him deeply, the nonexistent knife emotionally lacerating his sad, sad heart. Was it mentioned that he was only _six?_

Jeremy was daddy's boy now, he supposed. They played ball together sometimes, colored and talked together, but it seemed that daddy seemed sad a lot of the time. And, he was gone half of the time anyway for conferences.

And so Jeremy was continually left alone. All by himself. Alone. When it grew dark outside and he could no longer see the ants he…played with, contemplating serious matters no six year old should think about was one of his pastimes.

_Why does Daddy have to go so often? Why does Mommy not talk to me anymore? Why does she like Carrie more? Is it because she's a girl? Why was Carrie "expected?" Why was I a "surprise?" Why is Carrie mommy's pride and joy? Why not me? _

_It seems like Mommy doesn't love me anymore. Why? I thought all the mommys in the world have to love their babies? What did I do? Why? I thought I was her baby, too. Carrie's not her only baby. Why does Mommy not love me anymore? Why does she not care about me?_

_Why? ...Why? … Why?...WHY? _

Well, Jeremy needed very legitimate and honest answers to all of his questions and his "whys."

At six, you're not afraid to ask such things. And, you're not acting out yet. Because you're six, and you still think you can win Mommy back. And, you're still young, but your innocence is slowly fading.

You're only _six_.

And so, Jeremy frankly asked his mother his questions and all of his whys after she put Carrie down for bedtime _to her face_.

After, Mrs. Sayer just stood rigid as a board. Her face was white, and her hands were clenched. _So, he finally guesses the truth…_she thought. _And, it only took him six years of his life._

In an effort to spare his young, untainted feelings, Mrs. Sayer said, "Go to bed, Jeremy. You're just imagining things."

No. Answers, answers, answers! He needed them right _now._

"Answer me."

"…Go to bed."

"Answer Me."

"Jeremy, _go_ to bed."

"At least, just answer one question."

"What?"

Jeremy mustered up all his six-year-old courage, took in a deep breath, and exhaled noisily. He stared right into his mommy's eyes.

"…Do you hate me?"

"…Excuse me?"

"I _said, _do you _hate _me, mommy?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. _Too long._

Finally, Mrs. Sayer spoke and fake yawned. "Boy, it's getting late, Jeremy. I'm going to go to bed."

She pushed straight past him and walked to her room. The door was shut, and Jeremy could hear a lock click.

He was left alone again. Dropping to the floor, he wanted to cry, but everybody said boys don't cry. So, he willed his eyes to stop leaking.

She did not answer him. Nope. She did not even _say_ she did not hate him.

She did _not_ give him straight answers. Actually, she refused to answer anything.

Answers….Answers…ANSWERS!

Why wouldn't she just _answer _him?

Why wouldn't she show or even say she loved him, her own _son._

_Why?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: So, the first five chapters are done! But, I'm not sure if I depicted his slow progress into that "budding psychopath" very well, and I am thinking of changing his POV to first person either before or during his stressor. Feedback would be lovely! Thanks.  
><em>


	6. Chapter 6: Of Dissections and Knives

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 6: Of Dissections and Knives

When Jeremy Sayer was just seven years old, his mommy shipped him off to a science camp, and there, he learned just how much he liked knives and dissections.

"Okay, little buddies!" the overly enthusiastic camp counselor said.

"Now, we're going to sign up for the different activities. Not everyone is going to enjoy the same activities! If you have any questions, you can ask any of us!"

Jeremy was given a slip of paper and a pencil.

Scanning the whole thing over, the science camp kind of seemed a mix of coolness and lameness.

"_Fun with Flowers_?" Oh, heck _no_.

"_Looking at pond water: See what's really in there_!" Eh…no…

"_The science of rockets and how to build one_." Maybe…

"_Dissecting squids and other animals_." Oooooh…..

He checked the box next to that.

Later that day, he was seated in a small room with other noisy children, yelling and swinging their legs over the tall chairs.

The overly enthusiastic counselors returned, walked to the front of the room, and introduced themselves.

"Now, have any of you eaten squid before?"

A chorus of yes's and no's echoed through the room.

Then, they began talking about squids and how they were a special group of animals called _cephalopods._

Pretty much, Jeremy ignored what they were saying after a while.

_When do we get to see what's inside of them?_

He was jolted from his thoughts as a large metal cart wheeled into the room. _Cool. Dead Squid!_

Soon, they were given a plastic knife and the carcass of a squid. Jeremy peered at its dead body, a pair of glassy eyes creepily staring back. How was he going to cut this up with a plastic knife?

Raising his hand, he said, "Excuse me? Do you have real knives to use?"

The counselors chuckled. "You're just kids! You can't handle real knives! But, if you're all extra good, maybe on Friday when we dissect larger things, you'll get to use a real knife."

Cool. Until, Friday, then.

Taking the knife into his hand, Jeremy sloppily sliced the squid in a vertical cut. Ink sprayed everywhere, splashing onto his hands.

Ink? Why do squids have ink inside of them? Why? What else is inside of them?

Jeremy was quite disappointed. The squid had nothing really else in its body. It was just…hollow-ish.

Bored, he began to slice the squid up in pieces, chopping finely. He paused when he reached the eyes, though.

_Boy they're creepy…_

Much to Jeremy's disappointment, for the next few days, all the animals they dissected had relatively boring insides.

The baby octopus was much too small, and it was too meaty. Nothing really on the inside.

The oyster was too squishy and broke apart after a few hard lacerations.

And, all the shrimp had on its inside was this strange…brownish string. He was later informed of what it was.

But now, Friday had come! They get to use real knives! Real, actual knives! Yay!

And, the fish they were dissecting were _huge!_ Plus, their insides were much more fascinating than the previous things he dissected.

Ooooh! Gosh, its flesh is so squishy! Are those eggs in its stomach? What's this? Oooh! It has a real spine! And guts! Jeremy squished some fish guts together on his hands.

_So cool!_

A camp counselor came over to him. "Having fun? Try not to make a mess, though."

He gestured to the fish guts and fish body parts.

Jeremy nodded and continued to slice and hack at the fish, hoping to discover something cooler.

He wasn't too careful, though, and he sliced his finger accidentally.

"Hey, kid!" the camp counselor said, now worried. "Um…are you okay?"

Jeremy examined the blade closely for the first time since he received it. It was shiny…and sharp.

His cut finger had a clean, sharp laceration along the side. No sound came out of his mouth, as he merely watched the red blood ooze out of him, feeling a bit of pain.

The knife did that. This long, silver thing did that. Who knew such a small object could do _that?_ He was beginning to feel this strange admiration for knives. Look what they could do! This was strange, because at seven years old, you're only supposed to think superheroes and racecars are cool. Not knives.

But, seeing the blood slowly drip out of him made him wonder…what was inside of _him?_

He really wanted to cut a bit further and see, but the counselor quickly snatched up his finger, produced a band-aid, cleaned up his wound, and tightly bandaged it.

"Uh…you never want to cut yourself, okay little buddy?" the camp counselor said.

"We cut animals at camp, but they're already _dead._ Okay?"

"So, we can only cut open things that are already dead?"

"…Pretty much, yeah…Why?"

Jeremy wondered what it would take for this counselor to drop dead._ After all, he still wanted to see what was inside a human body…Squids and fishes wouldn't cut it any more. And where exactly was he going to find a dead body to dissect? And just how cool were those knives?_

* * *

><p><em>AN: And so his obsession with knives begins...  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7: School is Important

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 7: School Is Important

When Jeremy Sayer was nine years old, his mother was very displeased with him, as his grades were imperfect, and even if he worked hard to improve them, she would still always be very displeased with him.

"A B PLUS?" Jeremy's mommy said.

Jeremy hung his head. He had handed his report card over, expecting some encouragement. And besides! It was only _one_ B plus. The rest were A's.

"You know, when _I_ was your age, I worked _so_ hard on school. YOU KNOW WHY?"

Jeremy was silent, contemplating an answer, picking at his hands nervously.

"ANSWER ME!" Mrs. Sayer's face grew redder by the second.

_Ha._ _Now who wants some answers? _

Jeremy shrugged. He had an answer, but he just didn't want to say it. No answers for mommy since she wouldn't give _him_ proper answers. Yeah. He still remembered.

Mrs. Sayer rubbed her forehead. "Good grades equal a good life. You'll get accepted into a good college, get a good job, and have a good career if…a minor surprise doesn't happen to you."

Jeremy sighed. "I'll just work harder next time, Mommy."

"You better. I want to see A's on that report card next time. _All A's._ Am I clear?"

"...Yes…"

"Now, go study."

Jeremy sprang forward, ran to his room, and began studying. He wanted to make his mommy proud, and the only thing that dragged him down from those A's was his math grade. Ugh. Math. Even his friends struggled in math.

OoOoOoOoOo

And so, for the next semester, Jeremy threw himself into his studies. He reread and redid the work he learned in class. He reread his textbooks over and over again, and then read and memorized the new chapters he had not covered yet.

Especially, he practiced his math problems carefully and checked his answers to make sure he was right. If he did not get a concept, he would _make sure_ that he would get it.

He finally started truly caring for his grades because he wanted his mommy to care for him.

All semester long, schoolwork was the only thing Jeremy thought about.

Finally, it paid off. When he was handed his report card, he tentatively ripped it open and peered at it once he was seated in his bus.

All A's glistened back at him. Not one single B, C, D, or (god forbid) F glared back at him.

And it was glorious. Now, his mommy would be _proud _of him. There was just no way around it. He had done what she asked for, and even he was proud of himself.

What did she say again? Oh, yeah. _Good grades equal a good career, which equals a successful life._ Or something like that.

Maybe he was good at something. Maybe he had a good future ahead of him. Maybe he could even become…something _great_. Maybe he could now become his mommy's _pride and joy._

_…Oh, the irony of what he would become!_

OoOoOo

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" Jeremy yelled excitedly as he rushed through the house. He dumped his bags on the floor, and tore into the kitchen, searching for his mommy.

"Hello, Jeremy. Why so excited?" his mommy said, not taking her eyes off of the paper she was reading.

"Look! Here's my report card! I worked so hard for you! See?"

"Oh, really! That's a pleasant surprise."

She took his report card from him, stared it for a long time, and gave it back.

Jeremy smiled, expecting encouragement and praise. He was wrong.

Mrs. Sayer put his report card down on the kitchen counter.

She hummed a meandering tune, and then stopped. "That's pretty good. Quite acceptable. But, try harder next time. I don't see any A pluses, Jeremy. It's not good enough…"

"Wait…what? But, I worked _so_ hard for _you!"_ Jeremy felt all happiness crash down upon him. Despair crushed his heart and an overwhelming feeling of sadness clawed at his mind.

"No, A pluses, Jeremy. Try harder."

"But…you can't even _get_ A pluses! It's impossible at my school!"

In a quieter voice, he whispered, "I thought you would be _proud _of me. I worked so hard…for _you_…"

His mommy said nothing, but pushed him aside and picked up a teetering Carrie sadly running towards them.

"Aw, what's wrong, princess?" Mrs. Sayer clucked.

"Teacher said I dwon't know my alphabet…" Carrie rubbed her eyes and handed Mrs. Sayer an incomplete alphabet.

Mrs. Sayer took one look at it, put it down, and _smiled_._ "_It's okay, princess. Mommy will help you. And, I know you will make me proud after you learn it! Let's go! Get a piece of paper and a pencil, okay?"

She rubbed away Carrie's tears and led her to the dining table.

Glaring at Carrie relearning her alphabet with his…mommy, Jeremy snatched up Carrie's scratch paper.

_A B C F V H L K D I Z…_it read.

Jeremy snorted. Fail! Carrie doesn't even know her alphabet! _He_ learned it when he was her age _perfectly. _

"Oh, come on, Carrie! You can do it! What comes after C? …Try again, princess."

Jeremy blocked out the sounds of his mother's incessant cooing. Why did she encourage Carrie when _she _was failing something so simple? Why did she help _Carrie_ when she didn't get something? Why wouldn't his…mommy help him when _he_ had problems?

She wasn't even proud of his improved report card. And, he worked _so_ hard on it, too.

Staring down at his report card, the A's inked on the column seemed to smirk at him, if letters could do that.

His mommy's words echoed in his ears.

_Mmhmm…. That's good. Try harder. I don't see any A pluses, Jeremy. It's not good enough…_

_It's not good enough…Not good enough…Not good enough…_

Why is it not good enough? How was he supposed to get A pluses? Why was his mommy so mean?

He remembered how she shoved him away and immediately grasped Carrie in her arms.

_Why aren't you proud of me?_

What type of a mommy is not proud of her own son, especially if he worked _so_ hard to achieve what she wanted from him?

What type of a mommy does that?

At nine, Jeremy Sayer reached another epiphany. And, it hurt. Again.

His mommy was no longer…mommy to him. No. She didn't deserve all that endearment. After nine years of living with this treatment, she was now his mom. Not mommy.

But, he still wanted to know _why. _Why did she act this way?

* * *

><p>AN: I'm still not sure if I'm pacing the story properly, though, or if it makes actual sense...But, thanks so much for all the reviews! They were greatly appreciated! :)


	8. Chapter 8: The Trouble With Thievery

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 8: The Trouble With Thievery

When Jeremy Sayer was nine years old, he did very bad things just to get something he really, really wanted.

When he first saw it, he wanted it immediately.

His family was leisurely ambling together in the local shopping mall, and just passed a knife and cutlery store. Jeremy's eyes traveled over the glass windows and rested on a large and shiny knife. He _wanted_ it. He _needed_ it. Imagine the things he could cut up with that!

"Mom, Daddy, can I please have that knife?" Jeremy entreatingly asked while pointing to the current object of his desire.

His parents looked at each other confusedly.

"Um…what would you do with the knife, Jer?" his daddy asked.

Jeremy incredulously said, "Cut stuff with it. What else would you do with it?"

His mom stared funnily at him. After a moment, she determinedly answered him with solid conviction.

"No."

Jeremy was quite confused. "What. Why not?"

"Because!" His mom replied. "What if you hurt someone with it?"

"But, I'm not going to hurt anybody! I just want to cut stuff up! It's fun!"

"Jeremy, you have to understand. Little nine-year-old boys should never play with knives. It's too dangerous, and I don't want you to hurt yourself if you aren't careful with it. Okay? Maybe when you're really older, I'll get you a knife." His daddy reasoned with him.

Wow. That was the difference between his mom and his daddy. His mom would just jump to the conclusion that he would just hurt other people while his daddy would be more worried about whether or not own his son would get hurt.

What a big difference.

"…Okay…" Jeremy sighed after a pause.

He turned away, admitting defeat for now. But, desire was planted in his mind, and the thought of just owning that knife tore at him. Somehow, he would have to get it himself, no matter _how_ he would have to do it. Somehow.

OoOoOo

For the next months, Jeremy thought of ways to earn some money so he could buy his knife.

He tried to make lemonade for his own lemonade stand, but his mom didn't let him chop all the lemons from her tree. He tried to mow the lawn for his daddy, but the lawn mower was too heavy to push around. He even tried watching one of his neighbor's annoying birds while they were on vacation. It almost worked, but he wasn't paid after the neighbors came back and found their bird half bald.

Hey, plucking feathers off a bird can be fun, but the peck marks hurt afterward. Looking after that pathetically annoying bird wasn't even worth the money.

So, Jeremy Sayer was stuck. He could not think of any other way to raise funds for his knife.

But then, all the puzzle pieces clicked in his mind.

It happened late at night, when his parents were out on a "romantic" date, when Carrie was sleeping, and when his babysitter fell asleep on the coach with her hand still stuffed in a bag of chips.

Unable to sleep, Jeremy turned on the TV and flipped around.

_Boring, boring, boring... Hey! What's this?_

And, for the next couple of minutes, Jeremy Sayer watched a crime show and witnessed an explanation of how thieves would steal for money.

_It is quite common for thieves to pawn valuables for raw cash at a pawnshop after stealing…_

_Click!_…A pawnshop! Stealing stuff! Wait...But, isn't stealing wrong? But, that knife! He wanted it!

Jeremy watched as the criminal skillfully cracked the window of someone's car.

The sound of the glass breaking woke up his babysitter. She abruptly sat up and spilled her chips everywhere.

Squinting at the TV screen, she saw the thief reach into the broken window of the car and gingerly take stuff.

"Oh, no, buddy," she said turning off the TV, "your parents would _kill_ me if they knew what you were watching.

The TV might have been turned off, but Jeremy's mind was still on, the gears twisting and churning out many twisted schemes.

OoOoOo

The next few weeks, he practiced smashing windows of condemned buildings with a borrowed baseball bat. It was difficult at first, but after a few more goes, Jeremy became very skilled with the art of breaking windows at the tender age of nine.

Then, he looked for potential targets. Isolated cars. Cars parked in alleyways. Cars shielded by the dark night. Just…cars…with stuff to steal…

Jeremy often watched parked cars as he walked home from his bus stop. He watched, watched, and one day, decided he was ready to start this criminal process.

So, now, he grabbed black clothes, threw the hood over his face, shoved some black gloves on his hands to conceal fingerprints and protect him from the broken glass, and wore dark shades to hide his identity…who he was.

To him, stealing was the hard part for him. Not pawning. After he would take the stuff he stole to some seedy pawnshop, the clerk would probably ask no questions and just pawn the stuff. It was too easy, really. But for stealing, well he would actually be breaking into someone's car, a car that they worked so hard and paid so much to have…And then stealing more stuff…

Oh! What was he doing! Why was he doing this?

"Daddy, I'm going out…for a bit." Jeremy anxiously said, walking towards the door.

"Okay, Jer. Be back soon. It's getting dark outside."

After walking outside, it was time to start hunting cars.

It was a while after Jeremy found the perfect car. It was isolated from all the other cars, and its glove compartment was opened. Inside, he could see many CD's and books.

This was the one.

Hesitantly, Jeremy raised the bat.

_Was he really going to do this? _

Well, too late to chicken out. The owner might be back soon.

Jeremy could feel his palms sweating up inside his gloves. Getting a tighter grip on the bat, he raised it, and aimed.

_Crack! _

The window burst open, raining fragments of glass on the inside of the car.

An alarm rang and the car's headlights flickered on and off.

_Oh…shoot…I forgot about the alarm…Oh no….I'm going get caught…Oh no…Oh no… _

Jeremy fearfully reached into the glove compartment, grabbed whatever he could carry, and ran for it, not pausing to look back.

Panting, he stopped after what seemed a long time.

_Hm…It was quite exhilarating, actually...Now…to find an open pawnshop…Ooh! There's one!_

After his first theft and after pawning what he stole, his conscience was somewhat morally appeased. Somewhat. Guilt still nagged at him and remorse flooded his thoughts.

_Jeremy was so, so sorry...His parents were going to kill him…But he really really liked that knife…But, he's so sorry… _

It was a continuing cycle for him…break stuff…steal stuff…pawn said stolen stuff…count money…realize it's not enough for that knife…repeat…

Jeremy grew more anxious. He got sloppy, and finally, a policeman saw him breaking into a person's car and stealing stuff.

That was the day he got caught. On his fifth theft. But, he was so close! So close to reaching the needed money! So close to that incredibly shiny, sharp knife.

Too bad he had to obtain things that way, that criminal way. Jeremy was handcuffed like a real criminal. He was asked many, many questions. He half-heartedly gave many, many answers. Finally, a police officer said he needed to talk to his parents and take him home.

During the ride home, the officer lectured him about responsibility, doing all the right things, and all those other clichéd "be a good person" sermons. Jeremy just tuned it out and stared out the window. _So, this is what it's like to be a criminal staring out of a police car. People just stare and stare at you and wonder what god-awful thing you've done._

Finally, they reached his home. Jeremy was ushered out of the car and kept in a tight hold. Briskly, they trudged up the driveway, and the officer rang the doorbell.

His mom opened the door.

"Ma'am, is this your son Jeremy?" the police officer said.

His mom looked alarmed. "Yes. What did he do?"

Psh. _What did he do…_She automatically just _assumed_ he did something wrong? Well…he technically did do stuff wrong…But, it was triggered by _her!_

He pushed his way into the house, shaking himself from the officer's clenching grasp. He plopped himself down on a couch and listened to their conversation. The officer explained to his mom all the things, the awful things he had done. By the end of their conversation, his mom had become beyond furious.

Not at the officer, but _him._ He could just tell.

He heard her thank the officer, roughly close the door, and stride towards him.

"I. Don't. Understand. Why can't you just be _good?_ You know, because of your…juvenile antics, we now have to pay for all the property you damaged while…_stealing."_ She spat the word out as if it disgusted her.

Jeremy pulled his body upright and faced her, not saying a word.

"Answer me, Jeremy. Why? Why did you do that?" His mom's face turned bright red.

Ah. The answers. That question. Since she wouldn't give them to him, he wouldn't give them to her.

He stayed silent.

"You know what?" his mom yelled. "You just stay there and think about what you did! You're only _nine_ and now I have to explain to your father exactly why you've just been _charged_ with _five_ counts of petty _theft._ How could you?"

And so, when Jeremy Sayer was just _nine,_ he was charged with five counts of petty theft. You would think that those would be his last crimes committed, since he's young, there's time for change, and all that. Right?

Nope. This was just the beginning of the long lists of criminal offenses Jeremy Sayer would commit.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for all the reviews so far! Now, for this chapter, we entered a delicate situation, and I was not really sure if I handled this...appropriately since it was rather vague. Assuming you have read this, do you think the chapter flows well, or was leaving out other thefts a bad call? Thoughts are greatly appreciated. :)


	9. Chapter 9: Daddy?

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 9: Daddy?

When Jeremy was ten years old, he did more bad things, which caused his daddy to do a very, very unexplainable thing.

It was because of this bad thing he did. Again. The policemen (three this time) took him home after they caught him and thoroughly interrogated him endlessly.

They dragged him up his driveway with that same hard grasp and rang the doorbell.

This time, both of his parents answered it.

Both took one look at the three policemen tightly holding Jeremy. Both had different reactions.

His mom's face turned a violent shade of red, while his dad's face turned a rather pale color.

"Are you the parents of Jeremy Sayer?"

"Yes." His mom stated, glaring at him. "What did he do _this time?"_

Ah. She always jumped to that conclusion.

"Tell me the whole story, officers." Mrs. Sayer said, rubbing her forehead. _She knew this day would come…_

"Ma'am, your son has been charged with three counts of assault and four counts of battery."

Jeremy's daddy chuckled. "I think you must be mistaken. He couldn't have possibly done that! He's only _ten!_"

"Yes, he did. He assaulted and beat up a few kids real well at the playground. We had to restrain their moms before they could get a chance to get to _him_."

The policeman gestured disgustedly to Jeremy.

"He was probably playing rough!" Mr. Sayer said, waving it off.

"I think there's a clear difference between "playing rough" and assault and battery, sir." Another police officer said.

"But…he's only ten!" his daddy said, eyes wide.

"Sir, four kids are currently in the hospital. They're not going to die, but it looks pretty bad for your son…"

_Oh yeah…_Jeremy could still remember the soul-striking terror spread across all of those pathetic kids' faces. It was a strangely powerful feeling…to know that you've completely dominated a bunch of kids younger than you without serious injury. Besides. They asked for it. They were the ones that wouldn't answer his questions, his simple questions.

He could never forget their moms' shocked faces as they finally found them in the secluded part of the playground far from the safe parental authority.

The grown-ups talked for a bit more about consequences and what his parents should do to help him. Then, they left. But during this time, Jeremy's dad had not said anything any more. His face was still pale, and his hand tightly grasped the crook of his elbow. He stayed like that for a really long time, still shocked, but with good reason. _His son did that? How could he?_

What had Jeremy done?

OoOoOo

During the next few days, Mr. Sayer wandered aimlessly around the house and sat down for multiple hours at a time, staring blankly ahead.

He would not respond to his wife's questions, his daughter's pleas to play with her, and certainly not his son's endless apologies.

"Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" Jeremy would say.

_He screwed up…He messed up so much. Now, look what it did…._

But, his daddy would never seem to hear him. His eyes stared into nowhere and his ears fell deaf to the world around him.

Finally, _it_ happened.

Jeremy found one of the worst days of his life happening after he came home from school. He looked for his daddy in order to spout another stream of apologies, of regrets, but his office door was closed.

"Daddy?" Jeremy said, knocking and opening the door.

What he saw scared him.

He saw his own daddy packing away his papers, his files, and his personal stuff. Picture frames, photo albums…all gone…His office was so blank now…

Jeremy tried not to panic. "…Are you going away on a business trip?"

His daddy sighed, and finally opened his mouth to speak for the first time since his silence.

"Walk with me." He said, grabbing his bulging suitcase.

They walked together, father and son, through the house.

"Jer…I don't really know why you…did those things…" his daddy said.

Jeremy hung his head. _He's so sorry…_

They walked out the door and towards Mr. Sayer's car. Jeremy saw other various suitcases piled in the car. _Why?_ What were they for?

Mr. Sayer opened his trunk and stuffed his suitcase inside. Rubbing his neck, he turned and faced his son.

"I…think I'm going to need…a bit of time to figure this all out, you know. To think about some things…serious things…"

_WHAT?_

Alarm bells rang in Jeremy's head.

"You're…_leaving?" _Jeremy disbelievingly said. He could feel his eyes starting to prick and sting.

His daddy turned and smiled sadly at him.

"But, you said you'd _love _and _take care _of _me_ _no matter what…_" Jeremy said, clenching his fists.

"I remember…when I was younger, I remember you said that…Don't you have to keep that promise? You always told me to never break my promises…Never, ever. Why do you have to leave? Do you love me? At all?"

Mr. Sayer's eyes were strangely glistening as let out a choked reply.

"Listen, Jer. I can't even _believe _ you remember that…You were so young back then…"

"Answer. Me." Jeremy gritted his teeth.

"I'm so _sorry_. I just need to rethink some things over. Maybe one day I'll come back. Maybe one day I'll keep that promise and come back."

Jeremy folded his arms and tried to keep the tears from falling. "But...What about Mom? And Carrie?"

"I already talked to them last night. They understand…sort of."

"No…WHY?" Jeremy despairingly asked. This would be a question that would haunt him for a good portion of his life.

"Maybe, find out who you are. Rethink some things, too. I think after your little stunt, I'm not the only person that needs to rethink life itself."

With that, he turned, hugged Jeremy tightly one last time, got into his awaiting car, and peeled out of the drive way.

He didn't look back.

Jeremy stood there, frozen.

_How could this happen? Why did this happen? Why did he leave? Why did he go? _

_Why?_

_Why?_

_WHY?_

_The world is a cruel and weird place. That much, I don't need to rethink…_Jeremy thought.

Finally, he let the tears fall.

And just like that, as he watched the car speed off until it wasn't visible any longer, Jeremy's other parent lost his title of endearment.

Daddy was now Dad. Just Dad.

* * *

><p>".<em>..But because things change. And friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody<em>." (_The Perks of Being a Wallflower)_


	10. Chapter 10: Thanksgiving Chaos

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 10: Thanksgiving Chaos

When Jeremy Sayer was eleven years old, he had a very, very…interesting Thanksgiving dinner, to say in the least.

He was still trying to cope with his…dad's departure and mostly all the time, he felt so much hurt. Initially, he had tried to distract him from the sadness by plunging himself deeper and deeper into his studies. He received good grades for it, but good grades could never replace his…Dad…

He eventually realized there were some things you just had to accept. Just like Dad. He's probably never coming back.

Later, he learned his Dad settled down in Wisconsin. Far from Jeremy's little town in Iowa.

He's not coming back.

So then, his sadness hardened into bitter pain and cynicism. Oh, yeah. Just like that, a somewhat docile Jeremy Sayer changed into a suspicious and resentful little kid all in a matter of a bit of time.

Time, they say, can heal some wounds. But time, you realize, can also rupture your thoughts and your heart, and transform you into someone else…perhaps someone unrecognizable, too.

Jeremy Sayer was changed now. No longer was he eager to please. Nope. Now, he held the world with such deep wariness that betrayed unfathomable distrust.

He no longer smiled that much, save for events such as school dissections or fun time with his ants, and a scowl was stretched upon his face most of the time. Other times, his face was just blank, devoid of emotion.

He was a different boy, a different person, and a less happy one at that. His mom noticed it to, and it worried her a bit.

But on that fateful Thanksgiving Day, what Jeremy did reaffirmed his mom's belief that he was…dangerous…not normal.

One of his neighbors had invited him over to show him something a day before. They were on somewhat friendly terms.

"You like little animals, boy?" the graying, older man asked as he hobbled off towards his garage.

"Sort of…" Jeremy said, trotting after him.

"Here. I've got rats all o'er this ol' place. Do you know what gets rid of them?"

_Knives would…_

"Erm…a cat or something?"

"Wrong. Rat poison. It's the best way to get rid of these dirty animals."

"Why?" Jeremy asked.

"Well," the old man said, "these rodents are actually smart. You see, they eat stuff…nibble at it first, wait a bit to see if it's poisonous or not. If it's not, they continue eating it. If they can't taste it, they keep eating it."

"Now, with the rat poison, it's tasteless, and it takes a bit longer to kill. But, it's effective."

"How do you know if they'd eaten the stuff, then?" Jeremy asked. A strange look had started to creep up his face.

"Well, it's been said that after ingestion, seizures, lethargy, and bruising occur, but who actually pays attention after? At least you know those vile scum are eliminated." The old man rumbled.

"Oh. Okay." Jeremy said, shuffling his feet.

"Now, I've seen rats and all sorts of rodents scurrying about these neighborhoods. You never know what type of filthy disease they carry. Here. Take it, and use it well. Protect your property. Nobody likes scum." The old man menacingly said, thrusting a package of rat poison in Jeremy's hands.

Oh! The things he could do with that!

"Thanks, mister." Jeremy said. "I'll come by later and help you mow your lawn…or something."

The old man grunted. "That's a good lad."

What irony!

Jeremy returned home wondering…scheming the things he could do with this poison.

Of course, there will be mice to decimate, rodents to eradicate, but what else? Does it work on dogs? Does it work…on _humans?_

Jeremy walked back to his house with a wicked plan occupying his mind.

"Hey, mom?" he said, walking through the door. "Can I help cook the turkey this year?"

His mom pursed her lips and sighed. "I suppose. I can't believe your grandmother invited her neighbors over, too. I've never cooked this much food, well, ever…"

Great. He had full access to the turkey now.

"Watch the rest of the food, Jeremy. I'm going to go pick up Carrie from her friend's house. I'll be back in a few minutes. I trust you know how to prepare the turkey, then?"

"Yup." Jeremy said, not taking his eyes over the raw bird.

It was…_huge._ Last year, it was just an average size, but this bird…was…really big. But of course, they were having more guests, so it made sense.

Slipping his hand in his pocket, he pulled out the rat poison.

_Let's see if this thing is really potent as that old man said...Now, how much of this do you think I need to put in order for it to be effective?_

Jeremy gathered the ingredients needed to brine the turkey nicely.

_Add salt, brown sugar, vegetable stock, peppercorns, ginger…_

Jeremy added more ingredients into his large bowl and mixed them in until everything was nicely blended together.

He then looked at the rat poison. _Now, how much? Wait…should I even do this? Eh...Let's see what happens…_

Impulsively, he dumped the whole package in and stirred for a bit.

_Mmhmm….Poison…_

He chuckled darkly to himself.

_All right, turkey. Let's brine you…_

Jeremy dumped the potent liquid into the container with the turkey inside of it.

He managed to push it inside a large, empty spot in the refrigerator.

…_What have I done? I mean, I'm really not going to eat that…But, what's going to happen to the others who eat that? Are they going to…die?_

Eh. Only one way to find out.

Tomorrow, it's Thanksgiving Day, a time for thanksgiving and family. You're supposed to eat scrumptious food, stuff yourself till you practically burst, and generally have a good time. A nice time.

But, you're certainly not supposed to die while eating it.

Because you're certainly not going to suspect the eleven year old who prepared the turkey would poison it.

OoOoOo

"Carrie! You've grown!" Jeremy's grandmother said, pinching his sister's cheeks.

"Oh, Jeremy! You're getting to be a handsome young man, too!" his grandmother beamed and harassed his cheeks as well.

She then hugged and kissed Jeremy's mom.

"Meet my neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Oh, and they also brought their dog, if that's okay with you."

_They brought a dog…Maybe he'd try the poison on the dog first…_

Mr. Kent beamed. "Thanks for having us! We also brought you a smaller turkey and some side dishes, so you didn't have to do all the cooking."

Mrs. Sayer smiled. "Thank you. Our turkey's almost done cooking, but those sides look certainly tasty."

And so, for the next hours, his family chatted with their guests. But while they did, Jeremy entertained their dog.

_After all, this might be this dog's last few moments of life…of existence…of breathing…_

The thought of it all made Jeremy feel suffocated.

_What's it like to not breathe? What's it like…to die? _

It's all so scary. Breathing is something people shouldn't take for granted, he realized.

Well, life in general, shouldn't be taken for granted.

Jeremy patted the dog and threw its ball far away.

_Go fetch…_

Jeremy leaned back and stretched.

_Yes…this was a doomed dog._

OoOoOo

"Jeremy, take the turkey out and let it cool for a bit. We'll take it to the table after grace." His mother commanded.

"Okay, mom."

Jeremy pulled oven mitts over his hand and took the turkey out of the oven.

The dog came rushing in, wagging his tail.

_I'll just place the turkey somewhere the dog can access…_

Jeremy placed the turkey on a low table and returned.

"Why don't we let Mr. Kent do the honors of saying grace this year?" his mom said.

"I would be glad to." He said.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

_Thank you, God, for giving us all that we have. We are so thankful and grateful for everything, including this wonderful meal sitting in front of us…_

Jeremy tuned out and turned his head towards the kitchen and spotted the Kents' dog padding through the kitchen. The dog's eyes were resting on the cooling turkey.

_Okay…This could be interesting…_

Jeremy turned his head back and eagerly waited for what would happen next.

…_We bless this food in your name, Ame—_

A loud crash echoed through the kitchen, dispersing the peaceful mood. The sound of messy eating and gobbling could be heard.

Mr. Kent sat up, moving towards the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"BAD DOG! GET! OUT!" Mr. Kent yelled.

"Mrs. Sayer, I am so sorry…it seems my…_stupid_ dog got to your turkey…"

Jeremy's mom cringed, but straightened.

"It's…fine. We still have your turkey, right?"

So, dinner continued, a little bit more awkward, though.

But, Jeremy did not pay attention to the mindless chatter. Oh, no. He keenly observed the dog for signs of the poison until finally giving up, remembering what the old man said…

…_It takes a bit longer to kill…_

Ah. He would have to be patient.

He would have to wait…until that dog would presumably drop dead…

OoOoOo

And wait, he did. He waited for nearly one and a half weeks. Until, his mom received a distressing phone call.

"What is it, Kendra?" his grandmother asked, looking up from her knitting. She was staying with them for a bit.

"Jeremy… You cooked the turkey right?" his mom asked. Her face was slowly turning red. Again.

"Uh…yeah."

"The Kents' dog dropped dead. From rat poison…Do you want to explain yourself?"

"What rat poison?" Jeremy nonchalantly shrugged it off.

_So it did work…_

"Don't play dumb with me! I know _exactly_ what you're capable of. TELL ME! You know why? Because they say that whoever cooked that turkey that _killed_ their dog is facing a _lawsuit_ and a charge of animal cruelty. What. Did. You. Do?"

Jeremy sighed, and then told her everything.

_But I was just curious…_

Jeremy's mom rubbed her forehead.

_Don't scream…Don't scream…Don't scream…_She told herself.

"Never mind that now…What I find more distressing, is that…you cooked that turkey with the intent to _kill._ What were you going to do? KILL YOUR WHOLE FAMILY?" She finally blew up.

"Jeremy, were you going to _kill_ us all?"

Jeremy said nothing.

"ANSWER ME!"

Ah. The questions with no answers. Again.

"Kendra, give the boy a break. He's only eleven. There's plenty of time for him to learn to know better. Besides, I never liked that dog anyways….bit me once on the leg…" his grandmother said.

His mom gave him a hard, calculating look. She said nothing more, and exited the room.

His grandmother let out a chuckle.

"That was just a joke…right?"

Jeremy wished it were so…but he didn't want to hurt his grandmother. She was old, and old people don't take hard things well.

"...Of course, Grandmother."

She turned, pinched his cheeks, and walked out of the room probably off to watch one of her soap operas again.

The room became empty, and Jeremy was left alone within his thoughts, his cryptically dark thoughts…

_If anybody else were to have a peek inside his imaginations, rat poison would seem quite humane when compared to the other things he thought of up there._

* * *

><p>AN: Okay...so, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, so I apologize if you found it inconsistent or too wordy...


	11. Chapter 11: Completely Inappropriate

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 11: Completely Inappropriate

When Jeremy Sayer was twelve, he was charged with another crime.

Yeah.

It was as if year after year, his list of charges increased. What would he do when he would be thirteen?

By now, all the policemen were quite used to his regular appearances in the police station.

_Look! _They would say. _What do you think he did this time?_

This time, it was different. This time, he crossed another boundary, a completely inappropriate boundary.

"HE DID WHAT?" his mom said as the policemen dragged him to his home.

These two policemen were the very same policemen that took him home all the time. Hank and Don, they were named, were the ones that usually caught him, took him to the police station, and drove him back nearly all the time.

_Oh, come on, kid_. _You can do better than this. So much better than this. We don't want to see your face every week, you know. Why can't you just be a normal kid once in a while?_

Oh, he _was_ normal. To him, at least. But, what exactly defines normal? Is normal how people without crime records act? The world is confusing. What was normal to him, was abnormal to others. What was abnormal behavior to him was perfectly normal to others.

Normal. Huh. _There is no such thing._

A light shove into his front door shook Jeremy from his thoughts.

Mrs. Sayer answered the door. By now, she was quite accustomed to their visits. By now, she gave up on her lectures, her irate yelling.

"What did he do this time?" she sighed.

"Mrs. Sayer, your son was charged with, ah…one charge of sexual assault."

Mrs. Sayer turned white. Not red this time. Just plain white.

Then, as usual, Jeremy would tune out as the cops talked to his mom about the regular stuff…possible therapy lessons…possible rehabs to correct his behavior…possible ways to stop him…

Finally, the policemen left. A shaken Mrs. Sayer turned to face him.

"Jeremy. Please. Why? How could you do that to a person? A girl?"

An awkward silence ensued.

Mrs. Sayer did not yell this time. She merely rubbed her face and bore a look of sad, sad desperation.

"Why can't you just confess and be forgiven? Why can't you answer me, Jeremy?"

And honestly, Jeremy thought the same. Why couldn't his mom just confess she just did not love him? Why couldn't she answer his questions in the past?

"I see you learned something new from last Sunday's sermon." Jeremy lazily replied.

Mrs. Sayer sighed and exited the room, leaving Jeremy once again alone with his dangerous thoughts.

_Today was weird…Why exactly did I even do that? Oh yeah….._

It happened when he was walking home from his bus stop.

He was halfway home until he saw _her._

She was just a girl, probably a few years older than him, and she was pulling along a small child with her. She was probably a babysitter or an irritated older sister.

"Come on! Let's go home!" she had said irritably.

The child cried, tugged on her hand, and uselessly tried walking in the opposite direction.

"P-park!" The child cried.

The girl sighed. "No. We're going home."

The child launched himself in the opposite direction, breaking free of the girl's grasp. The girl angrily yelled at him, ran after him, and caught him.

What followed angered Jeremy quite a bit. When he was this age, he was never, ever treated this way. His dad would never, ever even think about doing this, and even if his mom was a bit distant, she never did this, too.

"That's it! You're getting it now!" the girl cried.

She then proceeded to hit and beat that little child until he was reduced to a small pile of sniveling tears and hurt.

"Do you want to go to the park now? Huh!" she bellowed.

The child responded in a fresh wave of tears.

"That's what I thought. Come on."

Geez. He was just a kid! Just a _kid!_ How could she? How could she sleep at night, knowing that she just physically and mentally hurt this young child?

"Hey!" Jeremy said, running after them.

The girl stopped.

"What do you want now?"

"I just want to know why you did that."

"Did what?"

"Completely abuse that kid?"

The girl's eyes flashed dangerously. "He. Was. _Misbehaving."_

"That's still no excuse for hitting him that hard. Look! He's in tears!"

"Look, it's not even your business! Just leave us alone."

Jeremy ignored her and bent down to the child's level.

"Are you okay?"

The child shook his head, rubbing his red eyes.

"Come on! Let's go!"

She began to tug the sniffling child away again.

Dumbfounded, Jeremy stood there. Even if he was quite a terrible person himself, he would never, ever hurt a kid. Kids were supposed to be such innocent human beings. Jeremy was quite sure hitting and inducing tears destroyed that innocence.

Poor kid…

Thoughts of cryptic vengeance immediately arose in his head.

_That girl needs to pay…_

But how? Oh! Once, when his babysitter was dozing off again, Jeremy watched more…not so age-appropriate things. But this time, it wasn't all police shows and crime.

No. This time, he watched more…inappropriately adult programs, and he wondered what that one male character was doing to the other female character. It looked like it hurt because she was crying, but he had never seen anything like it.

Should he do it?

Ah! Gosh, should he do it? Or not do it? The girl needed to be punished for what she did to that child, but that girl was still…considerably young. And his…dad always told him not to harm girls.

But what she did to that kid was terrible. Heck, he himself had done unforgivable things, and so far, only the police punished him for what he did. But, as far as he knew, he would never hurt children. That kid needed to believe the world was good before his mind could provoke such strange thoughts like Jeremy's. Jeremy never really understood the world and certainly doubted the existence of just pure goodness. He thought the world was weird. Just. Plain. Weird.

Should he?

But, wait! Curiosity strikes again! If he did that…thing to the girl, would she cry? What would happen? Is this an evil act? Would it hurt her? What would happen?

What would happen?

And, just like that, Jeremy forgot why he was doing this. He forgot about that whole previous "protecting innocence through vengeance" thing. Now, he was just going to do this to the girl for the heck of it.

Impulse. It was all impulse. His mind was made up. So, he menacingly stalked his way to the retreating form of the girl and that child.

"HEY!" he yelled, grabbing their attention. Then, he charged at her.

The rest was history.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay. I would have left this chapter out, since I do not really like such matters, but he really did do something in order to get charged with that specific type of assault. I left it vague so you could decide what he did. Also, I watched bits of his episode again, and...I realized that last chapter wasn't quite accurate. On Thanksgiving, he did poison the turkey with rat poison, but rather put rat pellets in it. The neighbor's dog didn't die, but went missing... But, what he was charged with was accurate, at least. So, sorry for those fallacies. One day, maybe I'll go back and edit it to fit his story more accurately.


	12. Chapter 12: A Spiral Fracture

__**A/N: I changed the POV to first person, so it will actually be Jeremy's thoughts since he was thirteen when everything happened in order to delve a bit deeper into his mind.** **Hopefully, it won't be too confusing. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...<strong>_

Chapter 12: A Spiral Fracture

Yeah. So, I'm thirteen now. Originally, I was quite excited to be thirteen, with all that almost-a-teenager vibe floating around. But, like my whole life, it seems being thirteen years old would just lead to another full year of confusion and disappointment.

Looking back, it was a strange year. More than usual. I did some…things people would cry about. I did some things that the newspapers would have a field day with. I did some things…well, you would probably say no thirteen year old should be able to do.

I did some things that pushed beyond even the darkly cryptic limits of even my own twisted mind.

I did…well, you'll see… , if you don't already know.

You'll find out. They always find out. That's how I was caught. They found out.

But, you'll see…

Well, on that happy note, let's talk about my…sister. Carrie. That's how this whole new mess started, actually.

It was so silly, in retrospect.

You see, it was her coming birthday party. It should be a happy occasion, right?

Like most of the events in my pathetic life, it was not for _me_.

I was stuck hanging around Carrie's birthday party.

Screaming girls ran around everywhere, littering the floor with their confetti and pieces of cake littered the floor. Their moms were sprawled upon our couches, probably gossiping or complaining about their daughters. Somebody's dog frolicked about, tearing up the fallen gift-wrap and trash.

To say in the least, it was a distasteful circumstance for me, as the levels of estrogen currently present in our house were abnormally high.

So, I was currently sneaking about, avoiding _everyone_.

But then, I heard something.

It's always _something._ People hear some things, and suddenly, everything _changes_.

I had been sneaking some soda from the fridge.

And then…_BAM!_

I heard my mom say something quite queer to one of her friends…

"…Gosh, Amelia, I wish Jeremy could be more like your son. He is such a great _brother_. Jeremy is…strange. Carrie tells me things, you know. I think she's _scared_ of him…and just the way she talks about him! You would think he was some sort of…I don't know…"

And then, some screaming kid ran in clutching her nose as blood squirted out from it. Naturally, the moms rushed over and fussed over her.

But, really? I was _scary?_

Okay. Fine. I suppose my charges speak for me, but I don't really _remember_ being particularly nasty to _Carrie_. In fact, I think I was quite…ah…_tolerant_, given my situation.

But…_scary?_

I always pictured big, scarred people as scary. Could a thirteen year old be scary? Could I be scary? Scary people are easily hated people. They're the stuff of nightmares, and everybody hates nightmares.

But, this leads to that lingering question…

Did she hate me? Was there anyone that _didn't_ hate me?

I needed to know. I needed answers.

So, later that day, I approached Carrie in her room as she played with her new gifts.

She seemed to shrink away from me as I got closer to her.

Interesting…

"Cool toys." I casually said.

Carrie shrugged.

"…Hey, Carrie?" I said.

"Yeah?" she said, looking up.

"…Do you _hate_ anyone?"

"What do you mean?" she said, a frown appearing upon her face.

"Well…when you…_hate_ somebody, you really, really, don't like them at all, and you wish bad things would happen to them."

"Oh."

"So. Do you hate anyone?"

"I don't know."

"I heard you're…scared of me." I said, intensely looking at her, watching her reaction.

Carrie didn't meet my eyes and said nothing, inching away.

"I guess it's true then. So, am I the one you hate? We humans all hate _someone._ Do you hate _me?"_

Carrie said nothing.

Maybe she needed a little incentive.

I quickly grabbed her left arm and twisted it behind her back.

She screamed.

"STOP!" she yelled.

"Then, ANSWER ME!" I yelled back.

Carrie began breathing heavily, and she started to tremble.

"I _said_, do you_ hate _me?" I yelled, twisting her arm harder and further upwards.

"S-STOP!" Carrie cried out, her face contorted in _pain_.

"IT HURTS!"

"Then ANSWER ME!" I shouted, pulling her arm harder.

"DO. YOU. HATE. _ME?" _

"I-I…" Carrie struggled for an answer.

I tugged harder and harder on her arm, pulling it upwards. I was so sure I was about to get an answer…until…

_Crack!_

The sound reverberated across the room.

Silence.

Then, tortured cries filled the room.

_Carrie's_ cries.

Shocked, I stood. Did I do that? Did I really do that?

Gosh. I did do that. So…that means I'm someone worth hating, right? Right?

I just want to know.

Then, I heard footsteps. Probably Mom. Quickly, I threw myself into Carrie's closet, hiding myself from her coming wrath.

Mom burst into the room.

"What happened? Are you okay, princess? Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly, scanning the room.

Then, I watched from the cracks of the closet as her eyes rested on Carrie shuddering on the floor, overcome with pain. She observed the tears streaming down Carrie's face, her oddly bent arm.

Well. To say in the least, I was _dead _if she ever found out_._

"Tell me what's wrong, Carrie. What happened?" Mom asked worriedly.

But, Carrie shook her head mutedly.

"It hurts, Mommy!" she cried.

"Oh, I know sugar plum, but you need to tell me what happened so I can fix it. What happened?" Mom cooed.

Uh oh.

Surprisingly, Carrie didn't say anything, but just cried harder.

She didn't _rat_ me out. But…does that mean I'm _scary?_ Was Carrie too scared to tell Mom the truth? Does she think I'm scary? Does she _hate_ me?

"Come on, Princess," Mom then said, "Mommy's got you. Let's go the hospital. The people there will be able to figure out…whatever is wrong with you. It'll be _all right_."

Carrie clung to Mom's arms with her good arm and cried into her shirt.

Mom said nothing as she walked out of Carrie's room. I don't know…It looked as if she was thinking hard…Wrinkles spread across her face as she clutched Carrie.

What was she thinking? Did she know that I did it?

More importantly, what was she going to _do_ to me?


	13. Chapter 13: Stressor

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

Chapter 13: Stressor

A week later, something happened that stressed me…no, _provoked_ me into doing those terrible things I mentioned.

It started off like a regular, normal day. I thought Mom was driving Carrie and me to school, and later she would go to work.

I thought that.

I really did. But, later…well, you'll see.

"…Mom," I said as I stepped in the car, "You cut your hair…"

Mom ran her fingers through her newly cut and shortened hair.

"Why, yes, Jeremy." She said. "I think new times call for new change…"

"What do you mean?" I asked, as Carrie struggled to find her seat belt.

Mom shrugged and smiled without elation.

"You'll see."

We drove for a bit in stony silence on our way to Carrie's school first. I wanted to get to _my_ school faster, though. Today, I had to give a presentation for science class on the digestive and respiratory systems.

The digestive system was quite interesting, but not only because it helped the body to digest and absorb the proper nutrients.

It contained _organs_.

Cool organs. Odd organs. Interesting Organs.

Organs.

How amazing was it? All that intestine crammed into a body. How did it really look like underneath? How did it_ feel?_

And the respiratory system.

That strange, yet beautiful system.

Lungs. Bronchi. Trachea. Just some parts.

They assist the body in taking in the necessary air.

To breathe.

To _breathe_.

Breathing is weird to me. You breathe unconsciously, but when you pay attention to your breathing, you consciously breathe.

It's all very weird. A cycle, it is.

Breathe in…and out….and in…and out…..

And you live.

And you live whatever life you've made for yourself.

And when the time comes, death _takes it all away_.

No more breathing.

Honestly, I was both mystified and terrified of it all. I had already known much of this information, but still! Today, I was to educate the rest of my dull classmates on the wonders of these systems.

But finally, we reached Carrie's school.

"Bye, Carrie," Mom said, leaning over to kiss her from the driver's seat in our car.

"Have a nice day."

Carrie kissed mom back, leaning on her good arm. Her other arm…well, had a bright pink cast on it. Turns out, she had a spiral fracture.

The sad part was, that I regretted nothing.

Why?

I still wanted to _know_.

Carrie paused as she opened the passenger door.

Quietly, she said, "Bye…Jeremy."

That was the first time she spoke to me ever since…she got her cast.

But…why?

Mom continued driving and we finally reached my school.

But…she _continued_ driving, speeding past my school.

"Mom," I calmly said, "you passed my school."

"I know."

"Mom," I continued, "I have a very important presentation to give today."

"I know."

"Mom," I tried to keep a level head, "where are we going, then."

"Somewhere."

"Mom," I said as I felt my face flush in coming anger," take. Me. _Back._"

"…No."

I lost it.

"TAKE. ME. BACK!" I yelled.

Mom didn't answer.

"Then, can you at least _tell me_ WHERE ARE WE GOING?"

"Somewhere, but I need to stop at church first."

I scowled in silence.

I'll find out_ later_.

Mom stopped the car as we drove up to our church.

"Stay _here."_ Mom said as she cracked the windows of the car a bit and left, locking the car behind her.

Fine. I would stay. It's not like I would go anywhere or anything. My school was too far away by now.

And, I guess, after everything I've done, she's still my _mom._ She wouldn't do anything bad to me. Right?

And so I waited. And waited. And waited.

Until finally, Mom and our Reverend walked out of our church. They seemed to be intensely speaking about something. Feigning sleep, I shut my eyes, hoping to eavesdrop upon them. I only caught phrases and words, but what I heard was rather disturbing.

"…you sure?...only a boy…your own…and blood."

"….have no choice….think he….and fractured Carrie's…..and…_hate him."_

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

_Whoa._

Did mom just say she…_hates_ me? I mean it couldn't have been Carrie because she would have said "…_hates him…"_ instead of "…_hate_ _him" _in order for the verb to agree with the subject.

I…guess I shouldn't be…_too_ surprised, as I remember, sort of, exactly how she treated me when I was younger.

But, really? Really _hate_? Hate is such a strong thing, even coming from _me_, a very unlikable person. Did she, I assume, really say that she…_hated_ me? Her own son?

I had to know for sure…

I _needed _to know for sure.

Then, Mom and the Reverend stopped talking, and the car beeped. I heard Mom quietly thank the Reverend, open the car door, and start the car's engine.

I didn't dare open my eyes just yet. If I really was pretending to sleep, then I still had to feign sleep in order to get rid of any suspicion. This was just one of the many things I learned how to lie about when I was younger.

If I opened my eyes now, then she would have known I was awake…and possibly heard what she said…and then what would she do to me?

No. It was better to fake sleep now and catch her off guard later.

After a considerate amount of some time passed, I opened my eyes, stretched, and faked a yawn.

"Did you have a nice nap?" Mom asked.

"I suppose…But, now, I thought I heard some stuff. Somebody hates me, Mom? Is that what you said? Is it true?"

Mom said nothing, but tensed up, and her foot pushed harder on the accelerator.

Pushing harder, I said, "So, it's true. But, this is something I've been dying to know. _Who hates me?"_

Mom said nothing, and the car continued to go faster and faster.

I tried to keep calm.

"Answer me, please?"

I tried not to sound so desperate, but Mom continued to pointedly ignore me.

"Answer. Me." I could begin to feel a vein on the side of my head throb.

No answer. Again.

I tried not to yell, but I lost it.

"ANSWER ME!"

Mom looked startled, and finally said something.

"…Jeremy…I don't think you need to know now. Maybe later."

Why did I even try? If she wouldn't answer me for thirteen years, why would she answer now?

This. Was. So. Frustrating.

And then, a sign passed us that scared me completely: WELCOME TO OMAHA, NEBRASKA

Oh. My. Goodness.

No…Don't panic…Don't panic…. There is a logical explanation why we are going to Nebraska. Is there? Probably not.

And so, I panicked. I'm not proud of it, but yes...I panicked.

"MOM? WHERE ARE WE GOING? WHY ARE WE IN NEBRASKA? WHY? MOM!"

She answered.

"Calm down...I just need to take care of some…. business that involves you. Try to relax. It'll be okay."

Yeah, right. But, I shut my mouth until we pulled up in some hospital.

Mom rummaged in her purse and pulled out a sealed envelope.

"Jeremy, listen. I need you to go into that hospital and give this letter to a woman named Monica Archer. This is _very important._"

"Then, why won't you do it? And, why did you have to drag me all the way to _Nebraska_? What's so important about this?"

"Just…_do it._" Mom handed me the envelope and a backpack.

"What's this for?"

"Just in case…y-…we might be here for a while."

"Oh," I said, "Then, what about Carrie?"

"She'll be fine. I've taken care of everything."

So, I got out of the car and started to walk to the hospital. But then, I remembered something vital.

"Well, when will you be back to pick me up, then?"

Mom looked anxious.

"Just…give that to Monica Archer," she said.

"Okay. After, will you answer my questions?"

Mom looked directly at me, as if she was trying to memorize my face. She gave no answer, but rather looked a bit distressed.

"I'm sorry I had to do this….Good-Bye, Jeremy…"

And then, I watched as my mom quickly drove away with _no answers_.

But, no worries, right? I'll get it out of her later when she comes back.

I walked into the hospital and walked towards the front desk.

"Hello. Do you think you could tell me where…Monica Archer is? I have something I need to give to her."

The receptionist looked at me long and hard, as if deciding if I really was serious and not just messing with her head like a normal teenager.

Psh. Typical adults.

The receptionist finally answered after a pause or two.

"She should be down that hall, last door on the right. If you can't read her name tag, boy, then she's the one with short brown hair in a purple nurses' uniform."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks, Miss. Oh, and by the way? I have never seen a woman with _that_ much facial hair above their upper lip. I mean, I don't even think some men I know can even grow as much as _you can._"

The receptionist's face turned bright red. Smirking, I mockingly saluted her and walked down the hall.

_Down the hall…Last door on the right._

A plaque hung on the door.

MONICA ARCHER: NURSE AND CHILDREN'S FOSTER CARE COORDINATOR

I knocked, and sure enough, a woman with short, brown hair opened the door and smiled.

"Hello. Um….I'm supposed to give this to you?"

"Hello there, dear. Thanks. Why don't you come in?"

As I walked into her office, Monica Archer opened the envelope and perused over the letter.

In the meantime, I looked at her office. Toys were strewn in a corner and crayon drawings were hung up on the walls, obviously drawn by children. Man, I remember when I used to love coloring and drawing with crayons. Those were the good days, I guess, when I was still oblivious to harsh reality and unaware of this weird world.

"Hey, if you want, you can play some video games. I'm a bit of a slow reader."

"Thanks…" I said, as I reached the TV.

Cool. She had an XBOX 360. I plopped down and skimmed through the games.

Nothing really caught my interest, until I found this one game…._Grand Theft Auto IV._

For the next few minutes, I played a character called Niko Bellic and engaged in such _mindless violence._

I got sick of it later, so I shut it off.

Hm. Monica Archer was quiet, and it really shouldn't take long to read that whole…long letter. Should it?

Glancing back, I asked, "Is everything okay?"

She smiled and continued to read, but then her smile wavered, and her friendly countenance shifted into one of…pity?

Pity? Why?

"Oh, dear." She said.

"What?"

"It seems as if your mother left you here so you could apply to the Safe Haven Child Protection Law."

Confusion still clouded my mind.

"So…when is she coming back?"

"I….I'm afraid that she intended for you to be placed in a foster care system, which you'll be placed in within a few days or so."

I felt myself collapse in a nearby chair.

Alone.

I was _alone._

My _mom_ _abandoned _me…practically _dumped_ me in some hospital.

How did I feel?

Probably a bit better than you would feel in my current situation.

I guess I was still in denial. Yeah, so I was a terrible son, a terrible brother, and a terrible person.

Couldn't they all see I was provoked into…_turning _into…this awful excuse for a human being?

Then, I felt something slide down my face. Gingerly, I touched my cheek.

It was wet.

What?

No… I'm crying?

What?

When was the last time I cried? I don't remember…

And how could she just leave me here? And…she didn't even answer my questions. Now, how was I supposed to figure out if she did…_hate me?_ No…This just justifies my cynicism for the world. You really couldn't trust _anybody_ out there.

Just yourself.

And it's so lonely, just relying on yourself.

But, I guess that's how it has to work now…

Stupid, stupid family.

And what happened to my answers?

I NEED THEM.

Monica Archer looked over from her desk and glanced sympathetically at me.

"I'm sorry, but we need to fill out some paperwork. Okay? What's your name? The letter didn't really say anything. You can call me Mrs. Archer."

My mind froze, my conscience withdrew, and my heart hardened.

I lied, and a name freshly discovered fell from my lips.

"Niko. Niko Bellic."

Mrs. Archer asked a few more questions, filled out the form, and once more, looked at me with such degrading sympathy.

"You know, Niko," she said, "you could probably stay the night with my family before you're dropped off with your new foster parents. I'm sure my husband won't mind."

I forced myself to pull a grateful smile.

"Really? That would be great! Thanks."

It's not like I have anywhere else to stay.

Mrs. Archer smiled.

"Maybe you could entertain my sons, too. They're quite wild and always have more energy then they need."

Oh. She has a family. I wonder if she treats them right. I wonder if she hates them, too.

So, I sat in her office, and _plotted_ and thought of a _terrible idea…._ a _terrible plan…_

Because what else do I have to lose?

And, besides. It seems as if every single choice I have made has led to this…new decision of what I would become….what I would now do.

It was an impulsive plan, I admit. I had no supplies I needed, and I only had some clothes and a few belongings.

But, I did have something that made up for it all.

My mind.

My dark, cryptically scary mind.

So, within the next few hours, I violently schemed, and I kind of figured everything out.

Finally, Mrs. Archer finished her shift at work.

It was time for her to go _home_.

"Come on, Niko." Mrs. Archer said.

So, we walked out of the hospital, got in her car, and started to journey to her home. She started talking again, but I only mindlessly nodded and was only focused on this plan.

Tonight, I would do some more unspeakable things that would probably get me executed or jailed for life if I got caught.

Tonight, four people would finally figure out if they would be sent to heaven or condemned to hell.

Tonight, I would _kill_ the Archers.

All. Of. Them.

Her husband…her sons…._Her_.

_All_. Of. Them.

The thought of it all, I admit, scared me, but what, you ask, would I do next?

After, I would do _whatever it takes_ to somehow get back to that town of Newton, Iowa, and extract some _answers_ from my…_mom_ by _any…_ _effective_ ways _possible_.

Because…

I. Needed. To. Know.


	14. Chapter 14: The Archer Family

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I certainly wish I did, just like all those other fangirls out there...**_

_**WARNING: This following chapter contains many, many dark themes and violent content not suitable for the young and the easily frightened.**  
><em>

Chapter 14: Omaha, Nebraska: The Archer Family

"Hello? Eric? Daniel? We're home!" Mrs. Archer said as she walked through her front door, depositing her car keys into a little blue bowl.

Sure enough, two small boys came rushing over, but stopped and hesitated when they saw me. Mrs. Archer seemed to notice their discomfort and beckoned them to come closer.

"This is Niko," she said. "He'll be staying with us for a day or so until we sort through some things. Why don't you show him around and play with him for a bit?"

The boys perked up and grinned easily.

"Yeah! Mommy never lets us go to our friends' houses often! We can have so much fun!"

_Mommy_. Just the spoken word stabbed my heart and brought back such horrible feelings.

But then, a middle-aged man walked in, probably Mr. Archer.

"And, who might this be? Have you brought me another son, Monica?" he smiled, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes.

Mrs. Archer laughed. "No, we're just taking him in for a bit."

I forced myself to sound cheerful and grateful. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Mr. Archer."

"Ah, it's no problem. Monica _always _brings me a few temporary sons or daughters from work. It's always a pleasure."

What a shame to waste such a kind human.

"I'm going to start dinner, okay? You guys have fun." Mrs. Archer smiled and walked towards the kitchen.

"I better help you with that, or we'll be eating more of that burnt salmon like yesterday…" Mr. Archer ambled after her.

They continued bantering good-naturedly until they reached the kitchen. And, I think if I were a few years younger, I probably would have given anything to have my parents together…and _happy_ like the elder Archers…

"Niko! Niko!" Eric and Daniel yelled, interrupting my thoughts as they jumped up and down. Yes, they sure had plenty of energy.

"What?" I asked, bending down to reach their height.

"Let's play! Upstairs! We can show you are toys! And our books! And! And! Other stuff!"

"All right." I forced myself to chuckle…to smile…It was the least I could do, given what these kids would go through _this night._

So, I followed the boys as they pranced up the stairs, flung open their bedroom, and pushed me in. More crayon drawings were messily taped among the green walls of their room. Then, as they shoved toy after toy into my face, I couldn't help but notice just how…_innocent_ they were.

And, honestly, that scared me. How could they be so…_pure?_ So…_oblivious_ to the _stupidity_…the complete _insanity_…of the world…They smiled at _everything._ They laughed at _everything._

How?

I could _never _remember a time where I was so…happy like these boys here.

I watched them play and run around for a bit longer. It would be such a _shame_ to take away such innocent life away from them.

Too bad.

Ah, well. I might as well begin my plan. I was a bit worried that I might hesitate, seeing as they're _only_ _kids_ and I've never, ever…_killed_ any _humans_ before.

And I've never really thought about taking away someone's _breath_. And I've never really thought of how _scared_ they'd be…And I'd never know if they were…_afraid_ of dying.

What's it like? To die? Surely, more people…not just me…would want to know…

I admit it.

I. Am. Afraid.

I am afraid of _dying_, I am afraid of _not breathing_, and I am most certainly afraid of just…being _gone._ How does it work? How could humans, such dominant creatures, have to _die_, too?

Why?

WHY?

I do not know. But, what if the Archers were afraid…of dying? Would they scream and cry as I slowly ripped life's breath away from them, completely frozen in fright until they were…just _dead_?

…I should not hesitate, then.

And I should not forget exactly _why _I am doing all of this.

Staring ahead at the effervescent Archer boys, my heart hardened, and my mind was set.

"Hey, boys?" I called, catching their attention immediately. "Do you want to play a _game_ with me?"

Both Eric and Daniel Archer immediately turned their heads towards me.

"Yeah! We love games! What type of game are we going to play? Let's play it!"

And, so it begins.

OoOoOo

Within a few moments, I explained my game to them. We were going to play a game of humans versus monsters. The sole monster, that would be _me,_ has captured two of the humans' sons, which would be _them_, to use for bait to capture and kill the other two older humans. The humans had to rescue their sons before the monster _killed them all_.

They were excited about it.

They just didn't know everything I described would just happen. For real. This was no childhood game of pretend or imagination.

This. Would. Happen.

This. Was. Real.

Heck, I guess I am a _real monster_, aren't I?

Probably.

Within moments, I, using various items around their room, tied up and gagged those foolish boys while they _still grinned_ excitedly. I then hid myself in order for my plan…game to work.

And we waited.

And we waited.

And we waited.

Until, Mrs. Archer's voice echoed in the room.

_Boys! It's dinner time!_

And we waited without coming to dinner.

And we waited.

Until, Mrs. Archer finally opened the door and panicked. She immediately rushed over to their still smiling faces.

"WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?"

Grabbing the nearest hard object near to me, some sports trophy, I sneaked behind Mrs. Archer, and bashed her head, effectively knocking her out.

The Archer boys' faces stopped smiling.

Immediately, they began struggling to free themselves from their bonds, but to no avail.

Now, only Mr. Archer was left.

And so I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And finally, Mr. Archer opened the door and freaked out, immediately rushing to the fallen Mrs. Archer and their sons. In the same fashion, I rushed out and clobbered him on the head, also knocking him out.

Eric and Daniel looked at me with such pitifully frightened eyes that I had to turn around without feeling such remorse and disgust with myself.

I then found improvised string-like materials and tightly bound up Mr. and Mrs. Archer, and dragged them both out of the room to the living room one at a time.

It would take a bit of time for them to regain consciousness. Until then, I needed to find a weapon.

In the kitchen, I found the best possible one _ever_. A knife. Not as great as the one I saw in that mall so many years ago. But, it was still a knife. So, I grabbed it, tested out its weight, sharpened it a bit more, and walked back.

The elder Archers seemed to be stirring.

"Had a nice nap?" I casually plopped myself onto a sofa near them and shifted the knife between hands to incite fear.

Mr. and Mrs. Archer regained conscious, looked at their surroundings, and panicked.

"Why are you doing this? What have you done? Please let us go!" They screamed.

I ignored them and gave no _answers_.

"Please!" Mrs. Archer pleaded. "I know your mom left you, and you must be feeling _so terrible_, but just don't do this! This is not the right way to deal with your pain!"

Angered, I turned to her.

"You don't know _anything._ Besides, I think it's time for me to check on your sons."

I snatched up the knife firmly, and as I stalked up the stairs to Eric and Daniel's room, I could hear, downstairs, both parents desperately begging for their sons' lives…

Entering the room, Eric and Daniel stared at me wide-eyed, clearly and obviously frightened. Their house was not sound proof, and the fearful yelling of his parents most likely echoed up into the room. And, who knows? Maybe they figured out that this certainly was not a game by now..

It was _that_ moment. Now.

I didn't want to see the smaller Archer what I was about to do with his brother, so I moved him into a separate corner, where he faced the wall, trembling in complete fright.

The other Archer, I never bothered to know the difference between them, stared at me.

Just stared. At. Me.

I reached forward, about to grasp his neck, but my palms were much too sweaty. And, I couldn't bear the look on his face as he watched me patiently…as if he, at this young age, knew what I was about to do.

No. I couldn't…_kill_ him like this. So, I turned him around, so the back of his neck faced me, placed my hands around his throat…and…and…squeezed as hard as he can.

I sat there beside him and…choked the life out of him as he thrashed and squirmed in complete fear. When he stopped moving…I…I gently laid him down, and his face…oh his face!

It's unnatural shade scared me…

Completely shocked, I edged away from the now dead boy, and moved towards his younger brother with the knowledge of _what I just did_. Somehow, his gag I placed over his mouth was loose, but he still faced the wall.

"…Mommy and Daddy couldn't save Eric and me, could they? We lost the game, didn't we?" he said, shaking and trembling.

I think that just about broke my nonexistent heart.

Was I really about to tear another young boy from his short, short life?

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Daniel…" I tried to keep my voice from wavering, but I failed.

And so, I grasped his neck, and the time it took for him to collapse from the lack of oxygen seemed like eternity.

Mentally exhausted, I laid the other Archer boy down.

And, what? What was that feeling? Of complete shame?

No….No…I couldn't feel guilt. Or remorse. It would only make what I was about to do _so much harder_.

And so, I sat there in the lonely bedroom and _willed away all the remorse I had_.

No guilt. No guilt. No guilt…

Shakily standing up, I grabbed the knife and started downstairs, scraping the walls with the knife. I heard Mr. Archer try to quiet his hysterical wife as she recognized the sound.

"Your sons…Eric and Daniel…they had such tiny and bony necks…" I said.

"WHAT. DID. YOU. DO. TO. THEM?" Mrs. Archer screeched.

"They're…gone now."

"No…NO!"

Mr. and Mrs. Archer quickly succumbed to fits of raw sorrow.

"Your. Turn." I said, looking towards Mr. Archer.

I bent down to a trembling Mr. Archer, and softly scraped the front of his shirt with the knife.

"Please…_NO…_" he yelled.

"I'm quite sorry, but I can't really…_stop _now."

Then, I swiftly _plunged _tip of the knife deep into his _chest_.

Mr. Archer made a strangled gargling noise as blood spewed from the wound, effectively splashing my face with it.

"NO!" Mrs. Archer yelled, twisting in her bonds.

I pulled the knife from the dead body and turned towards Mrs. Archer as I slowly and tauntingly walked towards her.

"Look at you…poor thing…" I sneered over her cowering body. "You're whole family is…_dead_…Why? I _killed_ them…Your husband over there in the corner? _Dead._ Your sons, whom you told me to entertain? _Dead_."

Mrs. Archer, who was already sniveling and sniffling, burst into loud, ugly, and ragged tears. Weird. The cinemas always portrays crying people still perfect…perfect hair…no blotchy face…perfect makeup…What an inaccurate representation…Humans just don't look perfect when they cry.

Mrs. Archer was a perfect example of that. Currently, she hopelessly sobbed. No shame there. Her eyes were clenched shut as tears flooded her blotchy face as her bound hands clenched by her side.

She just…cried so heart-wrenchingly I almost felt so sorry for her.

_Almost_.

Remember? No guilt…No guilt….No guilt…

"YES!" She finally answered. "I. HATE. YOU!"

That was all the confirmation I needed. Finally, a real, honest answer. She started rambling on and on…But, that's all I needed to know from her. She was useless to me now.

"I WISH I NEVER BROUGHT YOU HERE! I WISH I NEVER _PITIED_ YOU! YOU SICK SON OF A B—"

I chuckled. I sure was. Oh, dear Mom. Yes, I'll be coming for her _later_. To extract _her_ answers.

"OF COURSE I HATE YOU!" she continued.

Ah…A repetition of the truth. The true… She hated me… And, as the lines of delusion and reality blurred together as I saw my…_mom_ in Mrs. Archer, there really was only one thing left to do…

_Kill._ _Her._

I grabbed the nearest object near me. An empty, stiff porcelain vase. Edging closer to her hysterical body, I raised the vase just like I had raised the baseball bat when I was about to smash my first car, and _swung_.

That terrifying sound of a skull breaking reverberated throughout the room overpowered a piercing scream that erupted from her throat. Blood seeped from her nose…her mouth….and her eyes stared blankly ahead.

_Dead._

She was _dead_.

But, my hands still itched to _stab_ something more as the knife stained with Mr. Archer's blood twitched under my palms, and I remembered my odd obsession with those beautifully dangerous knives.

I then turned my eyes towards Mrs. Archer's unblinking eyes and her dead, dead body, and brought my knife downwards as the sound of metal sinking into human flesh filled my ears.

I thought of my…_mom_ and _every single_ _terrible memory_ of her from my childhood. Sudden bursts of raw emotion and pain flooded my mind, and I did the only thing I could do at the moment.

_Stab. _

_Stab. _

_Stab. _

_Stab. _

_STAB._

Soon, the only sounds echoing in the Archer household were the violent sounds of the knife sinking into a human body and my ragged breathing. What? Killing is physically and mentally exhausting. Finally I stopped, dropped the knife, and felt the blood absolutely dripping from my hands.

I suddenly felt exceedingly drained…as if I had not slept for days…As I stood up, I observed the scene…

There was Mrs. Archer…just lying there…bloody…and most certainly _dead._

I don't really remember how many times I drove a knife into her body…

All I know is that she's _dead._

She's _gone._

And her whole family _gone_ as well.

Remember when people would say…_What have I done? _after they did something….so terrible or horrifying? Well, not me, in this current case.

I know you must think that I must feel some guilt since I just executed my….ah…_first kills._

Honestly? I don't know…I suppose I just wasted four potential glorious lives. I suppose I may have ripped them from the company of the living.

I suppose all that I really know is just…._I did this_.

I. Just. _Killed._ Four. People.

It's not a matter of remorse, but just…a recognition of the current events.

I. _Know_. I. _Killed._ Four. People.

Four people are _dead_ because of _me._

You know all that stuff people say about eternal life and all of that stuff? Well, I never really understood that at all, to be honest. I mean…you just _temporarily_ live for some amount of time, and when you _die_…well...that's _permanent. _

You are just…_forever dead…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was probably the darkest chapter yet, and I'm thinking of changing the rating to M for all that. Do you think it was too much for just a T rating? Oh, and thanks for the reviews! :) In response to one reviewer, yes, I will write all of Jeremy's story (About twenty chapters long).  
><strong>


	15. Chapter 15: The Bennett Family

_**Disclaimer: Both Criminal Minds and "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot do not belong to me. At all. I have simply borrowed them for a bit.  
><strong>_

_**WARNING: This following chapter contains many, many, many dark themes and graphic, violent content not suitable for the young and the easily frightened.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: Council Bluffs, Iowa: The Bennett Family<p>

After washing the splattered blood from my face and my clothes, I left the cursed Archer household, a place that was once happy and full of life, but now had so much despair and suffering.

All thanks to _me_.

But now, I _needed_ to continue my mission…I _needed_ to come home…I _needed _those _answers _from _Mom. _But how? How would I get there? It took at least half a day for…_Mom_ to drive me to Omaha and abandon me there. How would I get back?

I reached into my pockets. In the left held the knife that claimed the elder Archer's lives. In the other held some money I took from their house. So…maybe a taxi? Probably too expensive… Maybe a train? Wait…were there even _any_ trains in Omaha? Hm…A bus? I suppose that'll do.

I then managed to find the nearest bus station after some searching, and walked towards the ticket booth.

"Excuse me?" I asked the man behind the counter. "Can your bus go all the way to Newton, Iowa?"

The man peered at me curious. "No, kiddo. Sorry. The farthest our buses will go is Council Bluffs, Iowa. Besides, What's a boy like you doing traveling alone? All the way to Iowa?"

"Oh…I'm just trying to…visit some _family_." Well, in a way, that was quite true…

I paid for my ticket with the stolen money, walked towards the waiting bus, and climbed inside.

I looked around the bus to see who I would be spending this miserable trip with. An old lady sat near the front clutching a large bag. A mother carefully watched her sleeping kids near the middle of the bus. Other families and civilians took up the rest of the bus as the driver climbed in.

Why, they're just normal people. Average. Well, normal by the majority of society's standards anyways.

And so, I found my seat and sat down. The bus started, and soon, we were on our way to Council Bluffs. And I was on my way _home_.

But then, as time passed by, an unfathomably nagging feeling began to consume my every thought…this sort of insatiable hunger…for _blood_.

I guess it's just that sort of thing…When you've killed, there's no turning back…and that thirst for destroying life only consumes you until you just…_kill again_. Maybe it was just the mixed horror and wonder I felt as I took away their ability to breathe…but that ability to take one's life away…was beautiful…in a fascinatingly dark way.

But then, I reached another conclusion that would only damage more people.

I. Need. To. _Kill_. _Again_.

After that moderately long bus ride was over, I was pathetically desperate to find more people to terrorize. And this time, I needed a very good reason to be allowed to stay overnight at my new victims' household.

I need to find more people to do so.

So, I guess I might as well start hunting a bit. It shouldn't be that hard…Once I've selected the next few unfortunate people, it wouldn't be that hard to gain their trust.

After all, I'm only a kid. Just a kid. People feel comfortable with helping kids. Hopefully, comfortable enough that they would allow them inside their house.

I found a nearby park filled with screaming children and watchful parents after wandering around the city of Council Bluffs for a bit. What a perfect target. Now, all I needed was the perfect excuse for pity from one of them.

Approaching the playground, I gazed at the people sitting and playing at the park. There were so many families….and I just had to take _my pick._ Which of the families would assist a poor, vulnerable kid today? Which family would suffer a terrible end today? Which family would _I pick?_

_It was time to go fishing…_

I approached the park, threw myself on a vacant bench, and faked a groan. During the bus, I thought of a simple lie that hopefully would get me where I needed to be.

"I can't believe this happened to me!" I yelled, slapping a hand over my head. "What am I going to do?"

A nearby mom perked up and turned her head in my direction, ceasing the current conversation she had with her husband.

"Excuse me," she said, walking over towards me. "Is everything okay?"

_The fish has been hooked. Now, it was time to reel it in…_

"I-I can't believe it! My bus! It left me out here!" I moaned, pulling a desperately pitiful expression upon my face.

"Your bus? Where were you going? Maybe I can take you?" she said.

"That's kind of you, ma'am, but I was headed to my new foster family in Newton." I lied.

"Oh, that's too bad. That's quite far away! I can't believe a public bus system would just carelessly leave a kid like you behind. But, don't worry. I'm sure my family can help you in any way we can."

"Thanks so much!" I glued an artificially thankful expression upon my face.

By this time, her husband and her kids who had been watching carefully, ran over to figure out exactly what had been going on.

"Who's this, Mommy?" a young girl asked, tugging at the woman's shirt.

"Yeah. Why are you talking to him? I thought you said we couldn't talk to strangers." A taller boy said.

"The kids are right, Sandra. What are you doing?" the woman's husband said, eyeing me suspiciously.

Ah. So, it would be harder for me to fool them.

"It's all right. This boy here…his bus left him behind accidentally, and he still has to travel a long way to his new foster parents, and so I just offered to help him. Say, what's your name?" she looked at me pitifully.

"Jeremy. Jeremy Sayer."

The words tumbled out of my mouth, and I bit back a profanity. Why did I give her my real name? Why?

The young boy inched forward.

"I'm Sammy, Jeremy…and this is my sister, Kayla."

"Hello there," I said, giving him a smile.

"So, is he going to stay with us, Mommy?" Kayla asked.

The boy…Sammy perked up instantly.

"Yeah, can we?" he asked. "I've always wanted a big brother…"

Oh. They were just normal kids. So incredibly innocent as well. How could I do this to them? But, my thoughts were interrupted by Sandra's plea.

"Jake Bennett, can he stay with us for just a day?" she asked her husband. "Tomorrow, we can just drop him at the bus station, get him a ticket, and that's all. Please?"

Really? I inwardly laughed at the woman's stupidity. What type of a person invites complete strangers into their own homes? Her husband, though, on the other hand, was much more smarter. I could tell by the way he observed me as his wife pleaded with him, as his gaze was one full of suspicion and mistrust.

"I don't know why we can't just take him to the police station. They could probably handle this better than us. And, it's actually legal."

I tensed, ready to run.

"Please?" The rest of his family asked imploringly.

"Please?"

"I suppose…you can stay for a day, but no more. It's nothing personal, but I just don't like the idea of letting strangers into my house."

Those words sealed their fate.

There was no turning back now. But, part of me wished he had said no…This would be the last time these good people visited the park together…This would be the last day they _breathed_.

But, the other part of me felt absolutely _pleased_ and _content_.I had _four new victims_ today.

Okay…I admit. Most of me felt that.

So, the Bennetts drove me to their house as their kids chattered on and on into my ears.

"Okay, kids," Mrs. Bennett said as she unlocked the front door of their house. "Why don't you go have some fun while Daddy and I make dinner and sort out Jeremy's situation."

The kids grabbed my arms and pushed me through the house, and I suddenly had a sickening flashback of the little Archer boys laughingly pushing me in the exact same way…

Shaking my head in an effort to drive the images away, I then flashed a fake smile and lied some more.

"Thank you so much! I really, really appreciate this…It's hard to find real, good people in this world…The foster care system isn't exactly the best sometimes."

Mrs. Bennett clucked her tongue at me sympathetically and smiled as her husband noncommittally grunted.

And so, the little Bennetts pushed me into their playroom and, just like the little Archers, showed me all their prized possessions and toys. I wasn't paying much attention as I nodded and beamed at everything they brought over, but finally, one of Sammy's things caught my interest.

"Look at this, Jeremy!" he grinned, pulling out an aluminum baseball bat. "My daddy got it for me so we could practice baseball together…"

"That's so cool! Can I see it?"

He happily handed it over, and I slowly ran my fingers and my hands over the cool, metallic surface. Oh, yes…my first crimes would not have been the same or even complete without this magnificent object.

I remembered the thrill I would feel every time I would smash those car's windows. Oh! The adrenaline used to race through my veins as the car alarm would blast through my ears.

It was scary, but lead to exactly who I would become.

_Good times…_

What a perfect weapon!

Now, I didn't have to use found trophies or lamps to knock the older Bennetts out. But, as scrumptious smells began weaving their way from the kitchen and into the playroom, it was time to act.

Soon, either Mr. or Mrs. Bennett would call us for lunch. So, it was now. Or never.

Calling out to Sammy and Kayla, I watched as they turned around, smiled, and ran over. Really…It was almost a surrealistic scene…I explained_ the game_ to them, and tightly tied and gagged them with various found items around their room after they agreed to play.

Retreating into a random closet housing more toys, I clutched the baseball bat tightly, waiting for one of the Bennetts to come.

Silence.

Then…"Kids! Lunch is ready! Come and get it!"

The little Bennetts giggled under their gags, waiting for their parents to come and rescue them from the monster. Me. What innocence! It would be a bit heartbreaking to crush such purity…

So, we waited without coming to lunch.

And waited.

"Kids?"

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally, Mrs. Bennett opened the door to the playroom, smiling, as if she was hoping to see us playing together like normal kids. Her grin slipped off her face and then suddenly, her countenance shifted into one of sheer shock and absolute terror.

Sammy and Kayla, noticing their mom's frozen distress, stopped grinning like fools, and started struggling against their bonds, their eyes growing wide with both confusion and fright.

Now or never.

I gripped the bat, swung open the closet door, and swung, hearing the sickening sound as metal and skull collided.

How easy.

Only Mr. Bennett was left to subdue. His reaction should be quite interesting as he walks into this room, wondering why his family and the stranger never showed up, as he was so…hesitant in letting me stay….

Finally, Mr. Bennett came. He obviously panicked.

" I KNEW IT! I KNEW THAT KID WAS NOTHING BUT TROU-"

That was when I smashed my bat into his head.

Now, all Bennetts were subdued. So, I dragged Mrs. Archer down the stairs and came back for Mr. Archer while the little Bennetts cried and strained against their bonds.

Hm. It would take a bit longer for the elder Bennetts to regain consciousness seeing as they were hit with a _metal bat._ So, I took out that splendid knife, walked to their kitchen, found a knife sharpener, and sharpened it for a bit.

I like my knives _shiny_ and_ sharp._

At least forty-five minutes later, the Mr. and Mrs. Bennett began stirring and groaning from their pain-filled heads, only to find that they had been bound tightly.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Mr. Bennett was the first to yell at me, his face contorted in anger and livid fury.

"WHAT DID YOU TO MY FAMILY?" He continued.

"Nothing for now, but why don't I…ah…_check_ on your kids now?" I smirked, walking away.

I drowned out their screaming and crying and pushed onwards, swinging the playroom door open.

Both Sammy and Kayla sniveled and stared at me with terror-stricken eyes.

_I need to end these two quickly to avoid the untimely remorse that came with the Archer boys…_

Struggling as I came closer, they tried to edge away. I grabbed Sammy, shoved him in a corner, and hoped that he would not look. After, I then grabbed Kayla's neck from behind and twisted it over and over again until her body crumpled against me.

Mildly horrified, I laid her body down and stalked towards her brother.

_He died quietly as well._

Two down, two to go.

Walking downstairs to confront the last two Bennetts, scraping my knife against the railing, I heard some strange commotions.

"Come on, honey! Almost there!"

"I-I can't!"

Mr. Bennett had been encouraging his wife, who had somehow stood up despite her bonds and edged her way to a table where she was trying to reach…a gun?

Figures. Mr. Bennett was paranoid enough.

But, guns were for the weak who were too scared to stand close to their prey, preferring to kill from a distance.

"Nope. Don't even try."

I approached Mrs. Bennett as she looked on with tear-streaked, frantically frightened eyes. Menacingly, I pulled out my knife. She whimpered as she caught sight of it.

Mr. Bennett, bound on the ground, was not fazed at all, as he yelled and bellowed at me with all his might.

"HEY! LEAVE HER ALONE! LOOK. AT. ME. LOOK AT ME!"

I glanced at his pitiful figure.

"Hello, there. I suppose you've been feeding your beloved children too much. Their throats were a bit pudgy when I strangled them."

Both parents, stunned, fell silent for a second. Then, Mrs. Bennett filled the room with incessant sobbing until Mr. Bennett's voice rose up like a raging fire, overpowering her crying.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY FAMILY! I KNEW WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN YOU IN…LET ALONE TALKED TO YOU! YOU SICK, SICK SON OF A BI-"

He was silenced by a casual kick.

"Funny…how life works. While you may lie on the floor, I hold the knife that _may_ or _may not end your life_."

I paused for a moment, tilting my head and screwing my face into mock pensiveness and confusion.

"_I. May."_

I bent down, peering into his defiant face. He was so different from Mr. Archer who cowardly begged for mercy until his last breath…_This _was a _strong human…_ His eyes flamed with fiery rage, and it took too much willpower to stare back without flinching. I finally managed to push the gleaming knife into his body while my ears erupted with his soul-tearing screams.

I withdrew the knife and plunged it again and again into his twitching body.

He _stopped moving_ after the third stab.

I then turned to face a hysterical Mrs. Bennett. Creepily walking around her in circles, I opened my mouth to ask _that question_.

"I've _killed_ your family. Your entire. Family. So…the only question is, _Sandra Bennett_, _do you hate me?"_

Mrs. Bennett sniveled and cried, turning away from my piercing gaze.

"ANSWER ME!"

Startled, she turned, nodded her head, and out of her mouth came a whimpering…_yes…_

I nodded mindlessly to myself.

_So it was true. She did hate me._

Once more, like it did with Mrs. Archer, the lines between reality and delusion blurred together, and in Mrs. Bennett, I saw…_my mom_. Again.

With raging ferocity, I pounced on my prey, knife raised in the air, and stabbed.

A strangled whimper erupting into a blood-curdling scream rose from her lips into the air, and vanished as life left her body.

And, just like that, the Bennetts were gone.

Oh! But I wasn't done just yet!

Remembering a poem I read when I was younger…I think by T.S. Eliot…I whispered to myself softly as I continued stabbing Mrs. Bennett's limp body…

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper…._

What a beautiful poem!

Finally, I ceased my rapid jabs into the now-dead body, panting loudly. What to do now?

Suddenly, I remembered something from so long ago…when I was a that one science camp…

_I remember...I accidentally cut myself with a dissection knife while cutting open a fish…A counselor then told me to never cut myself…because you can only dissect things that are already dead…_

Now, I have four dead bodies…_And_ I can_ dissect_ them exactly _however I want_…But, I suppose Mrs. Bennett's body was rather useless for this purpose. Too many of her internal organs were much too damaged from my violent stabbing to actually be observed properly.

Then, my eyes traveled a few feet across the room. There, Mr. Bennett's bloody was, and I only stabbed him a few times…His body would be adequate enough. So, I walked over to his motionless corpse, bent down, and swiftly jabbed the knife in the middle of his chest again.

This time, though, instead of taking it out and forcing the blade back in the body, I pushed the knife further downwards until only its hilt showed, and tugged the knife downwards into the stomach region, creating a large, deep laceration.

Blood spurted out, immediately splashing me. But, it's only blood. No big deal…And, now, I was free to _touch_…to _see_… to finally _discover _exactly what was _underneath a human's skin_…exactly what it_ looked _an_d felt_ like_, _and I had never been _more excited…_

My hand hovered above the bleeding corpse, hesitating a bit. I mean, it _was_ a dead body, and Dad always said we had to respect the dead.

_But….It was right here…When would I get another opportunity? And the laceration has already been made….And the blood is already seeping out…And the organs are right there…_

Impulsively, I plunged my hand inside and marveled at the wonders of the human body as I prodded and poked it.

I felt something and pulled it out….It was one of the intestines…I think the small intestine…How marvelous! How brilliant! Slowly, I began to pull it out.

It was just so long!

The intestine dripped blood everywhere as I pulled it out from its body. It was squishy, and it was almost exactly like how I imagined it would be. But, how could all that intestine fit in a single body?

What incredible organisms humans are! I mean, how could humans be so much…_bigger _on the inside?

After a few more moments of prodding, poking, and just general disturbing the inside of the body, I pushed the intestine back inside the body and stood up.

Blood dripped from my clothes, my hands, and my face. Any neighbor peeking through the window would be absolutely horrified with what they saw. But, it's all right. It's _only blood_. It's _washable_.

So, I washed up, changed clothes, and just….sat there… Another family was gone. I think I could still hear their horrid screams still echoing in my ears. I think I could still see their frightened, tearful faces still fresh in my mind. And, I think I could still remember when they were _still alive._

It wasn't that long ago.

A yawn escaped from my mouth. Killing really takes a lot out of you. Both physically and mentally. I looked outside the window. It was getting dark outside. Maybe I'll take a quick nap and then continue home.

So, I threw myself on the floor next to all that spilled blood on the carpet, closed my eyes, and allowed blissful sleep to take over my terrible mind.

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><p>AN: I just decided changed the rating to M for horrifyingly graphic violence and gore to avoid freaking out the faint of heart.


	16. Chapter 16: Reverend Louis Hannum

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.  
><strong>_

_**WARNING: This following chapter contains many dark themes and graphic, violent content not suitable for the young and the easily frightened.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 16: Route 6, Iowa: Reverend Louis Hannum<p>

I soon awoke from that nap an hour or two later to the sight of blood and death everywhere. Oh yeah…I did that… But now, I needed to continue onwards…back _home_… However, it was now dark outside, and there was probably no public transportation anywhere.

Well, then…I guess I better start walking. So, I searched for directions to Newton on the Bennetts' computer and printed them out.

Hmm…I suppose I could probably walk to the nearest town, Adair… Whoa. It would take a day if I walked…But only about an hour and twenty minutes by driving… Oh, well. I better start walking. Maybe I can hitchhike or something later.

And so, I stealthily snuck out of the back door of the house to avoid the sleeping neighbors without looking back at the destruction that lay inside.

You know, I seriously wonder whether or not I would ever be caught. Then again, I didn't really stick around long enough in Omaha to find out…

According to the printout directions, Route 6 is where I should be headed. With a little difficulty, I managed to find Route 6, and started walking on the little bike path near the trees of the highway. Cars whizzed past me as their lights briefly illuminated me.

Gosh, I remember…When I was still little, Mom, I think, used to tell me…to never walk outside all by myself at night…because then monsters and certain evil will harm you.

But, would she be surprised now to find out that I, her own _son_, had been the very evil monster she had previously warned me to stay away from?

I mean, there is absolutely nothing to fear when you cause fear yourself. I am the stuff of nightmares parents warn their kids about. I killed a whole family a day ago, and I just killed another family today. I should, therefore, have nothing to fear.

So, there is absolutely no reason to be scared of walking by myself at night because people should be scared of _me_…and the things I _have done_…and _could do_ to _them_.

Even Mr. Bennett testified to this as he bellowed that word…_MONSTER…_ at my face before I ended him. I still remember…he put up quite a fight before I tore his life away from him…

But then…as quickly as it left me after I murdered the Bennetts, that distinctive thirst for blood rapidly consumed my sinister thoughts once again.

But, I just killed! And, that nagging feeling kept prodding me…bothering me. Oh! I tried so hard to forget about it…But, that feeling would not release its claws from my mind…

So, it must be.

Perhaps…maybe some unfortunate soul would take pity on me, just a young kid, and offer me a ride somewhere…Nobody likes to see a small kid walking around in the middle of a highway at nighttime alone. Because no one suspects you or has to worry about your potential danger when _you are only a kid…_

This would both speed up my journey considerably and hopefully tame that monster inside of me clawing at my heart, begging for more blood.

Well. I guess a lot more people are more cautious at night. It took at least ten minutes of trudging up the highway before a truck slowed down and matched my lethargic speed. Its windows rolled down, and its driver turned on a light.

I twisted my neck towards the truck in order to see who pitied me enough, and I saw a white tag inserted into the diver's black collar.

Go figure. Only a priest would dare to help anyone at this time of the night.

"Hello?" the man said. "It's not safe to be walking out here all by yourself at nighttime, young man."

"Yeah…Okay…" I mumbled, turning my back on him once again, pretending to shiver.

"You shouldn't turn your back on the traffic, too!" he said. "People could run you over, or kidnap you!"

"I know."

The man sighed. "Come on….I really don't want to see any young kids walking about at nighttime. Too much danger lurks about when the light is absent and the dark is free."

"I was just walking to Adair." I shouted back at him amidst the roaring traffic.

"What? That's a long way to go! I can probably drive you there…if you'd like…."

I smirked, savoring the feeling of success.

"That would be nice, sir."

"Please…call me Reverend Hannum. Or Louis, if you'd like."

"Jeremy. Just Jeremy."

I figured that I might as well just tell him my real name. He's going to be dead in a few moments anyways…And who is he going to tell?

I got into the car, and the radio crackled, piercing our ears with static and news.

…"Two families murdered in two days…police and FBI investigating…"

So. Somebody found out. Somebody noticed after all. Somebody _always finds out_.

The Reverend looked anxiously at the radio, and turned it off.

"You shouldn't listen to such tragedy. You're too young and you mind is too pure to hear such madness…Come…let's say a prayer for these poor people…"

My lips moved as the words tumbled out of my mouth and joined with the Reverend's, but my mind was not there. Ha! He would know soon enough that _he_ was transporting the very killer that murdered the people he was currently praying for…

For what seemed like the longest time, I was stuck driving with the Reverend as he rambled on and on and on about religion, faith, and other stuff like that.

I bet he already figured out that I was not exactly the greatest person, and perhaps faith could save me. But, I tuned him out anyways.

Finally, he said, "I think we'll be in Adair in ten to fifteen minutes."

I nodded curtly.

_Perfect…Now was the time to act…_

"Do you ever wonder exactly what's inside of you? Underneath your skin?" I asked.

The Reverend furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his face together, obviously thinking quite hard.

"…I guess of course, but we humans already know, don't we? Organs, blood, brains…we already know what's hiding beneath our skin."

I sighed. He didn't get it, too.

"No! That's not what I meant!" I drawled, reaching into my pocket, grasping for the handle of that astounding knife.

"We learn about anatomy and all about it in school…, but so few of us have actually…_seen_ what all those organs and body parts look like. Don't you want to know what it _looks_ like and _feels_ like…for _real?" _

The Reverend did not answer. His eyes were glued to the road.

"I know _I_ do." I said, my fingers still grasped around the handle of that reliable knife.

"Don't _you_?" I finally pulled out that knife…that shiny, dangerous knife… and began toying with it besides the Reverend. I watched as the lights of the passing cars illuminated and reflected off of that silver knife.

What splendor!

The Reverend, nervous enough, began muttering a quick prayer under his breath.

"Please. Don't. You'll go to hell if you kill me. God will not be pleased."

"Just ANSWER ME!" I yelled. "_Don't you want to know what's under your sking?"_

"I…I s-suppose…" he said obviously shaking, as if it were an attempt to please me…

"Good. Me, too!" I said, cackling maniacally. "Why don't we…ah…_find out now?"_

Quickly, I firmly stabbed him in the neck as the silver blade gleamed in the moonlight until blood covered it as it sank deeper and deeper into his neck and splashed upon me.

Who ever said killing was clean?

A gurgling sound resonated into my ears as blood continually spurted out of the wound I created after I pulled out the knife.

There was so much blood.

_So much._

But then, I had been stupid. I had been foolish. I would never ever be able to live down what I had just done…Not the killing…Nope. I was comfortable with damning my own soul. But, as I killed the Reverend…I…just happened to…ah..._forget_ that we were currently in a _moving truck_.

How stupid of me! How incredibly foolish of me!

The truck spun out of control, lurching into the forest and the low ditch below. I temporarily forgot about the dead Reverend beside me, and leaned forward, trying to stop the moving vehicle.

I had never driven any sort of automobile before, but I watched enough people drive to know the theory behind it.

I should be able to stop the car easily, then. Right?

Nope.

The steering was jerky and I barely managed to stop us from crashing into trees. In the dark, it was quite hard to find the brakes, so as soon as my foot found a pedal, I pushed hard on it, hoping the truck would stop.

The universe hated me today.

It turned out that it was definitely not the brakes as we sped faster and faster and faster…Until, I managed to find my sanity for a brief moment and my foot, currently groping and kicking the area below, found another pedal.

It was the right time this time.

The truck slowly stopped.

I just sat there…for a moment…catching my breath…

I checked to see if I still had both my hands…my arms…legs….body…head…Okay. I'm alright.

But, I had nearly died…

I had nearly _died…_

I. HAD. NEARLY. DIED!

Is this what the Archers and Bennetts and the Reverend all…_felt_ before I killed them_?_ Were they this _scared?_ I was able to provoke _that kind of fear?_

I was able to instill this feeling of panic? Of despair?

Honestly, I didn't even know if I should've felt disgust and horror at myself.

Because all I felt was a sickening sense of _pride._

I know, right? _You sickening pig! You beast! You sadist! YOU MONSETER!_

That's what you probably think of me.

But, me? I just have to acknowledge what I am. Maybe I am a beast…a sadist…a _monster_…

But, that's who I have become…What I was provoked into transforming into…

Sometimes, life leads you to places you would have never thought you would end up in… I, for one, never anticipated that I would start killing at thirteen. Once, I thought that I could've been something better. I could have used my brains for something good. Not bad.

But, I'm screwed anyways…

I mean, I just killed a Reverend, a faithful servant of God…not to mention two whole families two days ago…

I was probably going to burn in hell for all of this after I…died…wasn't I?

Oh well…I had another dead body….I could dissect one more, couldn't I?

Yeah…That would be good.

So, I stepped out of the damaged car. Kneeling down to the ground, I pulled out the still bloody knife and wiped it in the grass. It was always nice to start everything with a clean blade.

Climbing back in, I studied the bloody body. Which part should I dissect? Which part should I discover exactly what had been hiding under that skin? People were probably going to be here soon. A truck swerving out of control and skidding into a ditch below the highway is bound to attract attention.

My gaze lingered upon his hands.

Hands. Without them, it was harder to operate as human. Why don't we find out what's inside?

Slowly, that wonderful knife sank into the middle of the arm as I pushed it deeper and deeper until the tip poked out on the other side. Then, I pulled the blade down, creating a long gash between the ulna and the radius. Blood seeped out, soaking my arms as I placed them around the opening.

Then, I tugged both ends of the wound outwards, away from each other in order to create a larger hole.

Sticking a finger inside the wound, I noticed the inside was still warm.

Still warm.

Not too long ago, that Reverend, a good man…human…was _alive_.

With the knife, I then hacked away more flesh. I stuck more fingers inside, and groped and prodded around the inside of the arm. My finger finally felt something hard.

_A bone._

How exciting! How marvelous!

After a few more moments of poking around the mangled limb, I stopped. I probably looked quite horrifying. Blood was most likely everywhere.

Luckily, I found a tiny stream of water around the forest that the truck crashed in. I couldn't walk around bloody like that. Somebody would know. Somebody would connect the dots and somebody would figure everything out.

I bent down, plunging my hands into the water. I couldn't see anything well, so I only hoped that all the blood was off.

Drying them on my clothes, I pulled out an extra sweater and stuffed it over my body in an effort to shut out the cold and hide my blood-stained clothes.

The Reverend said we were about ten minutes away from Adair. I killed enough today, and for once, that thirst for blood was satiated. For now. So, I began walking along the highway after I managed to climb out of the forest away from the Reverend's bloody, mangled body.

After at least twenty minutes, I saw lights in the distance. It must be Adair.

Eventually, I made my way there, found another community or recreational center, and just sat on one of the tables outside.

It was cold, and I was completely alone.

Alone.

I needed to sleep as well…To rest my fatigued body in order to prepare for what was to come.

Climbing onto the rusty stone table, I lay there, out under the gleaming stars, shivering in the cold dark hoping sleep would come fast.

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><p>AN: All I have to say: To theangelsarecoming: Firstly, thanks for reviewing again! :) Secondly: You are my favorite person right now for getting that reference!


	17. Chapter 17: The Riverton Family

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.  
><strong>_

Chapter 17: Adair, Iowa: The Riverton Family

After I woke, my body ached and ached. I suppose it's completely natural since I almost died in a truck crash and then spent the rest of the night sleeping on a stone table.

But, nonetheless, I rested well enough.

Then, I felt pangs of hunger rake through my body. Both a hunger for food, but also a hunger for _blood_.

I was utterly disgusted and fascinated with this hunger at the same time. Killing is somewhat like a drug, I suppose. Once you killed, that _feeling_ of killing is so strange…I mean, you literally watch as the victim just falls…_lifeless_…_because of you…_And then, you want to do it _all over again…_

I laughed at myself. What a monster I have become!

So, I waited and waited. This is a recreational or community center. People are bound to come by soon.

After a few hours of waiting, a few people finally walked over. A mother led her two kids past me.

"Mommy I need to go!" her small daughter cried.

"I know...You have told me too many times. The bathroom is over there, Amber. Just go. I'll wait out here with Zach." She pointed towards the building while her son kicked at the ground, obviously annoyed.

_Now_ was the time to act.

I might as well use the same excuse I used on the Bennetts. It seemed to work well enough.

I picked out the few remaining coins I had and marched over to the vending machine near the waiting civilians. I stuffed the coins in, knowing I didn't have enough to buy anything, but I groaned and pounded at the machine nonetheless in order to make a scene and catch their attention.

It worked.

"Excuse me?"

I turned and looked. The woman had pushed her blonde hair back and her son looked on in interest.

"Are you okay?" she continued.

I raked my fingers through my hair. "Oh…I'm sorry….I'm just having a terrible day…My bus left me behind and I just don't know what to do…"

"They just left you here? In the middle of nowhere?"

Oh. This one was sharp.

"…Yeah…Some old lady got sick and wanted some air so we had to get off here for a bit. I was just using the restroom and they left me…"

"That's too bad."

"…And I was supposed to come back to Omaha to my family…"

The girl had reappeared and walked back to her mom's side.

"What's happening, Mom? Who's he? Can we play with him?" she asked.

Yup. She was a kid. Just a kid. Her mom explained my "situation" to her, and her eyes lit up.

"Can we _please_ take him home with us? Even for a day? He can stay with us!" She asked as her brother nodded. Hm…Kids seem to be drawn towards me somehow. How queer.

"Oh, kids…" she said. "I would love to help him, but I'm not sure if there's anything I can really do for now. The authorities could decide how to help him…What's your name? I'm Mrs. Riverton…These are my kids, Zach and Amber."

"Jeremy."

"Okay, let's take you to the police station." She said as her kids grumbled in protest.

…Panic. That's what I felt. I couldn't go. They would find out _I _was the one they were looking for. But, it was too late. Amber clutched my arms and led me to their car.

And so, we drove to where I would possibly meet my doom.

"I'm sure the police could help you better than I ever could." Mrs. Riverton said, watching anxiously for cars to pass before she turned right.

My heart beat faster and faster and faster as we approached the police station, which was surprisingly not that far away. Should I just open the car door and escape now? This was bad….This was really bad…If she were to turn me over to the police, then I bet you it would only take a few hours for the police and the FBI to realize exactly what I had done.

But, as we pulled up near the station in search for a parking spot, we watched as the handcuffed criminal maliciously struggled to break free and jeered at the policemen who rushed to escort him inside.

"Mommy?" Amber asked, "Could Jeremy stay with us now? Why do we have to drop him at the police station if he has to stay with bad men like _him_ in jail_?"_

She pointed to the menacing criminal.

"He won't be staying in jail, but…I suppose you're right….Jeremy will stay with us tonight, and we can bring him back tomorrow after that bad man is safely locked up."

"That would be nice. Thanks so much!" I faked my gratitude easily, but I was still incredibly relieved that I would not be strutting about in the police station. I remember, when I was younger, practically all the policemen knew me, particularly the two that always drove me home every time I caused more trouble...

Besides. They would be dead tomorrow, so I would never ever come back there.

So, the car turned around, weaved in and about traffic, and headed towards the Rivertons' home.

After arriving and walking inside, Mrs. Riverton said, "I'm going to start dinner early since we're having chicken tonight, but let's eat lunch first."

So, her kids and I sat near the kitchen counter until Mrs. Riverton brought in some cold macaroni and sandwiches.

I have to say…It was a pretty glorious lunch compared to what I had been scrapping by myself this whole time.

Mrs. Riverton finished quickly and pulled out a defrosted chicken from her fridge. She began washing it as Zach and Amber amiably fired question after question towards me. I answered mindlessly.

But, I was curious about something. I needed to know if there was a bigger threat in this house.

"Hey, where's your dad?" I said. "I want to meet him…and thank him for letting me stay…"

It seems as if I had encroached on a bad topic. Zach and Amber ceased their cheerful chatter and became solemn as their eyes focused on the ground. Mrs. Riverton paused for a moment. Her eyes looked incredibly sad…hurt…

"Our Dad…died a few years ago." Zach mumbled.

"…I'm so _sorry_…My own dad left my family when I was _ten_. Did you at least know him well?"

In complete truth, I was completely honest. I would never, _ever_ forget everything I felt the day I watched his car leave Iowa. And, it has been about ten months since I last talked to him…I heard from Mom that he moved to Wisconsin.

I guess he gave up on me, too.

"He was the best Dad ever..." Amber said. "I miss him a lot."

Silence.

But then, after Mrs. Riverton took out the raw chicken while everyone was still somber and quiet, she pulled out _that knife_.

It was that knife. The knife I so desperately wanted when I was so much younger….I would remember it anywhere…

It. Was. That. Knife.

Mesmerized, my eyes were glued to the blade as it effortlessly sliced through the raw chicken.

_How wonderful…_

I felt the Archer's knife in my pocket. It had served me well, but I was completely certain that it was so much more inferior than _that knife_.

Mrs. Riverton broke the silence, washing her hands before speaking.

"Still…I think we should call your mom and let her know where you are…I could talk to her for you if you're afraid she would be mad at you."

"…You're right. She would be incredibly mad. Here's her number."

I pulled out a small piece of paper. Mrs. Archer had scribbled her number on it and gave it to me.

_Call me anytime you need something..._she had said.

I took the phone Zach handed to me and dialed her number.

"Here," I said, then handing it to Mrs. Riverton, "Just leave a message."

She briefly left a message saying I was with her and everything was okay. Then, she turned off the phone and turned towards me.

"Come," Mrs. Riverton said kindly. "I'll show you where you'll be sleeping for the night. Zach? Amber? Go head up to your playroom. I'm sure Jeremy could play with you later."

"Thanks." I said, still mesmerized by _that knife._

It turns out that if I actually stayed long enough, I would have slept on the couch with a warm, fuzzy blanket over me. But, I was not, so perhaps when I'm done with the Rivertons, I might as well just take their blanket. I didn't want to spend another cold night under the stars with only my bloody jacket on.

After, Mrs. Riverton showed me the playroom and walked out, claiming she had to do the laundry.

Zach and Amber ran towards me with great, big smiles upon their faces. Perhaps they forgot about their dad momentarily. But, as these kids were a tad bit older, they didn't rush to show me their toys and games. Nope. They just plopped down on the ground and talked to me about everything. Just. Talked.

I hated destroying kids. They were just... So. Innocent.

They were _just kids_.

Eventually, they tired of talking, and promised to grab a deck of cards or a board game for us to play with.

For a while, we played various card games, but I knew I had to strike soon. Mrs. Riverton would want to check on us soon before dinner.

But, there was something I _wanted_. There was something I _needed_.

_That knife…._The knife that I had so desperately wanted when I was younger….The knife that I smashed car windows and stole for…The knife that I wished I could have had…

_That knife…_

"Kids, I'll be back, okay? I'm just going to use the restroom."

Lies. But, they bought it anyways, being kids and all.

So, I quietly snuck downstairs, tiptoed quietly in the kitchen, and there it was! That deadly, beautiful knife! It gleamed on the countertop as if it beckoned me to come closer…to grab its hilt….to _kill with it…_

Everything felt so _right_ as I grasped it in my hands.

Sliding it into my sleeve as the cool metal pressed against my arm, I again quietly walked back to Zach and Amber.

"Kids?" I called, walking into their playroom. "Do you want to play a different game?"

They eagerly ran over, but when I explained it to them, they were not convinced.

"Come on!" I cried. "It will be fun!"

"But, we're too old for it!" Zack said.

"And I don't like monsters!" Amber cried.

But nonetheless, Amber allowed me to bound and gag her. Her brother, though was more difficult.

"Wait! But, I don't really want to play!" Zach said.

"Too late." I said.

He struggled and struggled, but I eventually got him bound and gagged tightly like his sister with whatever materials I could find.

Now, as they wriggled on the ground, I frantically looked around their room to find a makeshift blunt object. No! There were only soft teddy bears, small cars, and clothes…."

"Kids?" Mrs. Riverton called. "What's going on up there?"

I could hear her coming closer, and closer, and closer.

Oh well….I supposed the hilt of that magnificent knife could work as well…

I crouched behind a desk, and as she opened the door, her countenance shifted to one of fright and worry, just like the other moms. I raised my knife, crawling out of my hiding spot, but her kids, yelled muffled screams and tilted their heads vigorously in my direction as they saw me, knife in hand, approach closer.

Mrs. Riverton turned around rapidly, and just…stared at me, pushing her kids behind her. As she eyed her knife in my hand, cautiously, she stood and faced me as her children cowered behind her.

"I don't know why you're doing this….But, I understand that you're… probably confused about something and most likely hurting so much right now for some reason, but this is not the right way to deal with whatever problem you're having. I don't know exactly what you're dealing with…This is not your fault. But. Please. Don't."

Mrs. Riverton was so incredibly different than all the other mothers I ended. Mrs. Archer cried and cried until I provoked her enough to admit she hated me, with roaring fury and hatred. Mrs. Bennett sniveled and cowered behind her husband's strength and barely admitted she hated me, whispering her admittance as tears streamed down her face. Not to mention, Mrs. Riverton was the first to avoid being knocked out unconscious.

No…Mrs. Riverton was so _different_. She was so…_strong_. There she was! Staring me down! Attempting to make me stop with her words that pierced through my heart! I, who probably looked quite deranged and murderous right now. I, who clutched a knife as I waved it around furiously.

Was she not scared?

No…She was, but she was keeping it together for her _kids_. _They _were the reason why she was attempting to talk her way out of this.

"This is what I do," I snarled. "This is who I've become. And you know what? After I'm done with you and your miserable kids, I'm going to somehow make my way back to my own…_home…_ and kill_ my own family. _My sister…_My mom_….She's my problem that you were guessing about."

She remained calm, but her eyes betrayed fear and concern for her children.

"_I can take you there."_ She firmly said.

Well. This certainly changes things.


	18. Chapter 18: The Journey Home

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.**_

Chapter 18: The Journey Home

"I can take you there...To where you need to go." She repeated.

I guess…I didn't really know how I was to get to Newton at all. And, maybe I could just kill her after she takes me.

"…Fine. Let's go, then. _Now_."

She bent down to untie her kids, but I stopped her with a snarl.

"Don't touch them. They stay. It's only you and _me_."

Mrs. Riverton nodded curtly and turned to her frightened kids. "Everything's going to be alright…Mommy is just going to take Jeremy home, okay? I'll be back. I _promise_."

If I was, perhaps, a normal human by society's standards, I suppose I would actually feel some sort of…pity…and admiration towards Mrs. Riverton.

So, as I pressed the knife to her back, we walked towards her car. I hopped in the passenger seat and began toying with the knife to show her exactly what would be plunged into her body if she did not take me to Newton.

And so, we drove. And we drove. And drove.

For the longest time, there was complete silence, until Mrs. Riverton just had to break the silence.

"So…do you play any sports or play any instruments?" She cautiously asked as her eyes darted back and forth from the road to the knife.

"Nah…I don't work especially _well_ with all the dolts on my school's sports teams and just forget about music….Those instruments are better off used as _weapons_ to me." I said, enthusiastically waving the knife around.

"…Well, almost normal kid comes to school for a reason…There has to be something you like." Mrs. Riverton continued.

I chuckled. "You just don't get it, don't you? By society's standards, I am not _normal_. Not at all. Haven't you heard the news? Yeah... That was me. I _killed_ _nine people_ in a span of a few days…Some of them were just _children_…like your own…Imagine! Imagine if I got to your children before you took me away from them!"

"…Y-You never answered my question, Jeremy." Mrs. Riverton said, mildly distressed.

"Oh, right! I like _science_…You know…dissecting things…animals…_humans_…Finding out exactly what's under our _skin_."

If Mrs. Riverton became more disturbed, then she didn't show it as she just calmly concentrated on driving.

"What about you? Do you _ever_ wonder what the blood, bone, and organs _really look like under your skin?"_ I continued.

"No." She said firmly. "I don't."

Fine.

Time to provoke her now.

"Say, what would you do if I really did kill your kids?" I taunted. "First, though, I would have to break through your garage and take that baseball bat Zach was telling me about…Then, I'd –"

But, Mrs. Riverton interrupted.

"Oh, you don't have to sneak in, Jeremy. You just have to ring the doorbell and I'll let you in."

…She was certainly very…_different._

I observed her. Her eyes were glued to the road in front of us and she seemed calm, though I don't know how. All of the previous victims had given me some sort of a…_reaction_. But, Mrs. Riverton was not provoked.

Little did I know that that fact alone would cause my downfall. You see, Mrs. Archer had violently shrieked and yelled after provoked. Mrs. Bennett just cried harder and harder. But, Mrs. Riverton? Oh, no…That woman was so _different_. Like I said before, she just wouldn't take the bait.

She wouldn't react.

Now thanks to that, I had lost two victims, her children left behind, and now, I only had one body to mess with.

"Why don't we talk more about you now, then? Surely a nice kid like you would have loads of interesting things to talk about you." Mrs. Riverton suddenly asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I turned my head towards her and glared. Mrs. Riverton's small smile faltered a bit.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" I yelled. "You think I'm a terrible kid, don't you? A _rotten_ beast….a _monster?"_

"I never said that to you!" Mrs. Riverton protested, slightly speeding up the car.

I chuckled. "You didn't need to. Your behavior and actions around me….The way _everyone_ acts around me….That's how I know everyone thinks and believes I was never good."

"I personally believe that all people are born _good_. You're just angry….You're deeply _hurt_ inside. So, I don't blame you for anything." Mrs. Riverton evenly replied.

I snorted. "You should blame me. _Everyone _blames me. My _mom_ blames me. When Dad left us all…When Carrie got hurt…Who gets the blame? _Me_. It's always _ME!"_

_Okay…maybe Carrie's arm was my fault anyways…_

"I don't know why they would blame you for such things…You are not to blame. All you need is just attention from your family and love from everyone." Mrs. Riverton said.

I ignored her. It was too much to handle. She sounded like my own mom when she would talk to Carrie after she saw her do bad things. But still, her words began to pierce through my mind…

Could it be? I wasn't that bad? Was all I needed just some real attention and love? Really?

I laughed at myself, startling Mrs. Riverton a bit. Who was she to say such things? She wasn't my mom! How would _she_ know what _I needed?_ Nope. The only thing I truly and really ever _needed_ were _answers_.

Answers…

Answers to everything.

Answers to life.

Answers to death.

But most importantly, answers from my _mom._

I just needed..._wanted..._to know _why_.

Soon, I recognized the neighborhood we were cruising along in and said, "Pull over here. I'm almost home."

"No, it's fine, Jeremy. I can take you further. I can drop you off at your house exactly like I said I would." She said, not slowing down or stopping the car.

"Exactly how stupid do you think I am? I'm not going to let you see where I live! You'll only call the police! No…I'll walk now. I know this neighborhood. Now, stop the car."

And, she finally did, pulling up near a stop sign.

I paused, though, before opening the car door.

"So, I'm finally gone now…You can go back to your sniveling children. But, just admit something….You couldn't wait to get rid of me, could you? Just say it."

Mrs. Riverton fumbled for words.

"ANSWER ME!" I banged the hilt of the knife on the dashboard.

"No, Jeremy. We had a good time talking in that car ride." She smiled weakly.

"You're _lying_." I snarled

"But…I am not _lying,_" she said anxiously. "You're a good person. A good kid. I enjoy your company."

_Lies! Lies! LIES! SHE'S LYING! _

_Nobody could ever possibly think that…No…After all that I have done, people would only say terrible things about me. How could she say that? How could she lie to her teeth? _

_What? _

_Why._

_Why? _

_WHY?_

With my free hand, I clutched my head, bothered by what she had just said.

There was absolutely no way she could be telling the truth.

"You're a good person, Jeremy." She repeated.

"You're LYING!" I ferociously yelled, waving the knife madly in the air

I couldn't take it any longer…NO!…Impulsively, I stabbed downwards into her stomach area rather easily as if I had sliced through butter. Surprisingly, she did not yell, but let out a strangled gasp. Slowly, I pulled out that knife, relishing the absolute horror on her face and the blood dripping from my knife with only a hint of remorse emerging in my mind.

Without checking to see if she was still alive and _especially_ without looking back, I casually stepped out of the car, closed it as my bloody hands smeared the door, and walked off. The nearest house I saw had a skateboard and a bike outside of its lawn.

I grabbed the skateboard and raced off, leaving Mrs. Riverton behind.

Forget about her.

Why?

I was in_ Newton_.

I was _home._

Now, it was time to find my _mom_.

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><p>AN: I do apologize for the low quality and shortness of this chapter. I am attempting to finish this up before finals, so it may seem a bit rushed...


	19. Chapter 19: Hello, Carrie

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.**_

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><p>Chapter 19: Hello, Carrie<p>

After skateboarding through various familiar neighborhoods, I finally found my way back home. There it was. That house I grew up in…suffered in…wondered in…questioned in…_lived_ in.

It was time to go home now.

I marched up to the front porch, carelessly picked up the one loose brick on our porch and located the spare key Mom always put there. Really…If neighbors watched us carefully enough, they could have found that key easily.

I then stuck the key into the front door, twisted it as I enjoyed the harsh screech it made as it twisted and turned in the metal lock, and opened the door.

I didn't want to alert anyone of my presence yet, so I kept quiet and snuck through the house. Soon enough, I found Carrie quietly doing homework in the living room as she rested on a beanie bag.

Quietly, I put the knife back into my pocket. There was no need to frighten her. For now.

"Hi, Carrie," I said. "Did you miss me? I'm home!"

I didn't mean it, of course.

"Jeremy, what are you doing here? Mommy said you weren't supposed to come home anymore." she asked.

"Oh...I just wanted answers to stuff." I said, plopping down next to her.

"...What type? For homework?" Carrie questioned.

Oh! The innocence of children!

"Nope...Say, remember when I fractured your arm?" I said, poking at her cast.

Carrie immediately tensed up and scooted away from me a bit.

"...Yes."

"Do you remember what I asked you then?" I said.

"I don't remember." she said, still attempting to finish her homework.

I grabbed the textbook and paper away from her as she looked up, startled. "Well, I'm here to ask you _again. _And this time, you _better answer. _So. Do you _hate me?"_

Carrie remained quiet.

Growing increasingly irritated, I screamed, "ANSWER ME!"

"Fine!" she said. "I don't! You're just so _mean_ sometimes, though!"

What...What? Even after ignoring her for half of my life? Was she that oblivious to the _jealousy_ I felt towards her? And even after I fractured her arm?

"But, I've fractured your arm! I've been a terrible brother."

"Well, maybe you're angry at someone. Maybe you were upset when you fractured my arm. And, remember when I bit you so hard when we were younger that it bled? But, you didn't hate me for that!"

...I had nothing to say to that. I guess she _was_ oblivious. But, I needed to make her _change her mind._ And I knew exactly how to do it.

Surely some news stations would have been reported on these killings, right? So, let's go show Carrie exactly what I've done...Maybe then, she would change her mind after. I then roughly lead her to the living room. Grabbing our remote, I turned on the TV and flipped around, unable to find what I was looking for, until...

..._killer still at large as both the police and the FBI have failed to identify him as of yet...All families are warned to be aware of this threat because mostly families have been targeted and murdered with the sole exception of a local Reverend..._

Ah...Images of the crime scenes played over the screen as the reporters continued to talk...and, I remembered all that death and destruction I brought to those people as the bodies of the Archers, Bennetts, and the Reverend..._my victims..._filled the screen...

Suddenly, a small whimper pulled me back into reality. Carrie had turned away from the screen, obviously frightened of what she saw. I pushed her head back. "Watch, Carrie..._watch._ Do you see all those dead people on TV? Do you see all that blood they're just..._lying _in? Did you see those small, very dead _children?"_

I pulled out the knife and threw it between my hands. Carrie turned and gasped after she caught sight of the gleaming blade. She attempted to move away, but I grabbed her fractured arm by its pink cast, and she winced and a cry of pain escaped from her lips.

"Well, _I _did that, Carrie. I killed them all when I was gone."

"No! No way! Stop it!" Carrie said, putting her hands over her ears.

"Yes! I did!" I taunted, wrenching her hands away. "Don't you want to hear about it? Maybe then you'll change your mind."

Carrie shook her head.

Ignoring her, I continued, "All of them! Dead! Because of ME! The parents...the children...Oh! You should have seen their faces! And all the blood and guts! Oh, it was absolutely marvelous!"

My voice grew louder and louder with each sentence that tumbled out of my mouth, absolutely raving. With that, Carrie grew more and more distressed as her eyes grew wide and her face turned pale.

"NO! STOP IT!" she yelled.

"No. Now, answer me once more," I said, grabbing her arm. "DO YOU HATE ME?"

She screamed, and as I slowly started to twist her other arm exactly how I twisted her other arm before I fractured it, she started crying. I guess she just couldn't handle a bit of pain.

"Answer me." I snarled. "Don't you hate your brother now? He's twisted your arms! Fractured one of them! And he's _killed nine people_!"

"STOP IT!" Carrie yelled.

"Stop it!" I mimicked her in a sing-song voice.

Abrubtly, I yelled back, "I'll stop WHEN YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND! I'LL STOP WHEN YOU ANSWER ME!"

Finally, Carrie blurted out that one answer as she struggled to wriggle herself out of my tight grasp.

"YES! I HATE YOU!"

Satisfied, I dropped her and watched as she fell to the ground sobbing in complete distress.

Finally!

_She hated me._

But, was it of her own will or my intimidation? She did say, after all, that she did not hate me. Even if I was mean. Either that means that she had merely said yes out of fright or I had just grown into a twisted monster that was able to _make _her _hate me_ with the knowledge of what I had done.

Then, I heard a car pull up into the driveway interrupting my turmoil, and I grinned sadistically to myself in anticipation to what was to come.

_Mom's home_.

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><p>AN: I am not pleased with this chapter, and perhaps I'll rewrite it later...But, we only have one chapter left now!


	20. Chapter 20: Mommy?

_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. At all.**_

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><p>Chapter 20: Mommy?<p>

I wanted to see the absolute horror on Mom's face after she opened that door. So, I grabbed Carrie, turned off the TV, and pulled her upright, so we were both standing. I casually gripped her broken arm as she sniveled.

"Oh my God! He's got _Carrie!"_ I heard a woman's voice say. A slammed car door followed.

Oh. So much for surprise, then.

She burst through the door, and sure enough there was my mom. Her eyes were wild with fright and horror as she saw me grinning stupidly while holding a very tearfully frightened Carrie.

"Hey, Mom!" I greeted her casually.

"Jeremy...What are you doing here?" she said anxiously, observing Carrie's tear-filled face.

"Oh...I came for some overdue answers, Mom." I said.

"Please...Just let her go!" Mom cried.

"I will...After you ANSWER ME!" I yelled, swiftly bringing the knife I held in my other hand over Carrie's neck. It didn't cut her, but the swift movement was enough to make Mom panic.

"No! Don't!" she said as her hands flew towards her mouth, terrified for her _precious daughter._

_"_Now, answer me. Admit that you've _hated me my whole life." _I said, waiting for the truth.

"Jeremy...please...Just drop the knife and let Carrie go. Please!" Mom said, avoiding the subject.

"ANSWER. ME!" I exploded, startling both of them.

"ANSWER ME OR I DRIVE THIS KNIFE INTO HER NECK! JUST ANSWER ME!" I screamed.

Mom hysterically sniveled a bit again before answering.

"When I was pregnant with you...There...There was another t-twin...But the d-doctor said that one fetus _c-consumed_ the other...I-"

I was shocked. I had a...twin? "But I wasn't even born yet! How could you blame me for such a thing?" I angrily said.

"Oh, you don't know how hard it was to carry _you _around for nine months! It was like having a monster stuck in my womb!" Mom screeched angrily as her face turned a familiar shade of red. I was too focused on her answer to even consider the armed agents entering the house as a threat. I would deal with that later. For now, the answers!

"And now, just look at you! The FBI have told me all about you, and you know what? You're just ROTTEN TO THE CORE! A MONSTER! A TWISTED MONSTER! I THOUGHT I HATED YOU BECAUSE YOU KILLED MY OTHER SON, BUT I THINK I HATED YOU BECUASE I KNEW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WERE! WHAT YOU'D GROW UP TO BE! I HAD TO LIVE WITH THAT! I HAD TO LIVE WITH YOU!" Mom's voice grew louder and fiercer with every damning conviction and hatred that spilled from her tongue. The female agent restrained my mom, advising her to quiet down.

You know how I wanted the truth through all these years? You know how I had guessed it anyway? Well, I had never, ever realized exactly how much hearing the truth still hurt when Mom still yelled it all in my face after thirteen years of no answers.

Every proclamation of hatred cut deeply into my heart. It's one thing for friends to pronounce their hatred of you...But, just a whole new deeper...darker...terrible level of hurt opened up when a _family member_ said they...they..._hated you._

And so, I stood there as my chest heaved up and down, still recovering from all that yelling, shell-shocked...hurt...completely out of it.

_She hated me..._

_She said I was rotten to the core..._

_And what was that stuff about the fetus? I had a twin? In a normal universe, I would have had a twin brother? What?_

_But, she said I was a monster._

_And, more importantly, she said I was a MONSTER._

_And, she said she hated me._

Honestly, the hard, real truth hurts. Anyone who says any different is probably lucky or blissfully ignorant of the stupid, stupid world.

After all these years of guessing, it still hurts.

And, look at what that turned me into!

It was only until a tough-looking FBI agent moved in front of me and pointed his gun at my head that I was jarred back into the cruel reality. Oh yeah. I guess I forgot about them.

"You can't kill me. I'm only thirteen. There has to be some kind of a law against that." I said absent-mindedly.

"You might be a kid," the agent aggressively said, "but you're still a _killer_. I don't discriminate. Killers are killers."

I still stood there…still more shocked than I should have been with those heart-breaking _answers_… with that knife's blade barely touching Carrie's neck as she whimpered and shook.

"Don't make me _shoot_ you."

Oh, my.

I gazed into the black, soulless barrel of the gun. With one tightening of a finger, that agent would shoot _one bullet_ into my chest…my head….wherever it really took to _kill me._

One.

One bullet.

That was it. That's _all_ it took to rip my breath away from me….To tear my damned soul away from my body…To _kill_ me.

If I moved suddenly, then that would be it.

The End.

Did I really want that? …I could feel it getting harder to _breathe…_You know that moment? When you realize you're just _standing_ between the lines of _life_ and _death?_

Well…I was standing right there, and let me tell you…The only thing you think of, really is…_You don't want to go…_

Oh, no! You want to _live._ You want TO LIVE.

TO BREATHE!

Oh, and in that moment, I really just…couldn't…No. I was too scared to let go of this world.

_I was scared to die._

Yeah. I'll admit that. A scary killer who rips the life from others is, what? Afraid to die?

_Yes…_

Finally, I just threw that wonderful knife away, wincing as it hit the ground hard.

_I don't want to die…_

Carrie sobbed, pushed herself out of my grip, and ran to Mom.

"Come here, princess! Mommy's got you! It's okay!" Mom said, hugging her tightly as they both sobbed into each other's chests.

The agent suddenly gripped my arms _hard_ and twisted them behind my back, clamping handcuffs on them.

Panicking, I yelled out the one thing every human on this earth would cry when truly distressed and scared…

"MOM! MOMMY!"

The echoes of my frightened yells never seemed to penetrate my mom's ears.

She just…_ignored me._

As the agents lead me to the waiting police car to take me away, all I could do was just _stare_ with wide eyes. Mom and Carrie were too busy crying into each other's bodies to even pay attention to me.

That was it, right?

At least I got my answers.

Too bad it came at such a high _price._

Before walking out the door of my own house, I glanced back _one last time_…

OoOoOo

Now that I'm sitting in the back of the police car with my hands cuffed uncomfortably around my back, I'm probably not going anywhere anytime soon, so why don't we have a look at my unfortunate life story?

Jeremy Sayer was born February 6, 1997 in the Saint Jude Hospital. Saint Jude was the patron saint of lost causes. What a coincidence, right? His daddy gave up on him and left when he was ten, believing he was too much to handle, but promised to be back soon after he figured out a few things. He broke his promise. His sister now looked upon him with mingled terror and absolute fright. His own mommy believed firmly throughout her whole life that he was a lost cause…a _monster._

Maybe he was.

Maybe _I_ was.

When I called out to my mommy, as all normal humans do when they're scared, she ignored me. She _ignored _me.

My mommy _gave up on me_ even _before I was even born_.

My daddy _gave up on me_ when I was _ten_.

They all believed I was a lost cause.

_Lost cause…Rotten to the core…Monster…_

Maybe I am.

Maybe I am all those things, but _I am never giving up on myself._

When I was thirteen, a few months from fourteen, I realized that I had nobody left but _myself_ in this cruel, cruel world.

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><p>AN: It's done! Thanks for bearing with me if you've made it all the way till the end! Here's a special thank you to theangelsarecoming, who had supported this till the end. THANKS! :) Also, in a couple of weeks, be on the look out for a new story! I'm still deciding between two options: I could either do a story based upon one of the unsubs of the episode Painless (7x04). Or, a new, original unsub who bases his killings around Jonathan Swift's _A Modest Proposal_ (For those of you who are familiar with this satirical work, you would know exactly where I'm going with this...)


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